Star Trek: The Endless River
by BlackCapricornDay
Summary: 200 years after the Original Series, Starfleet has launched its first mission into the unexplored Galactic Core. Captain Zia Rashid and the crew of the experimental science vessel USS Icarus encounter a vast, enigmatic empire centered around a strange interstellar phenomenon, while being stalked by a rogue Romulan warbird...
1. Chapter 1

**Star Trek: The Endless River**

 _ **Note:**_ **This follows my earlier "Star Trek: Icarus" and "Star Trek: Simulacrum," but is meant to be readable as a standalone as well. Set a century after TNG, it follows the voyages of the _USS Icarus,_ an experimental science vessel with a crew of seven, plus one mysterious passenger, on Starfleet's first mission into the Galactic Core (except for the _Enterprise_ in "The Nth Degree" and, uh, _Star Trek V..._?). Follows primary but not secondary canon.  
**

 **Karachi, Earth, 2424**

At the center of the city, in the midst of towering skyscrapers whose architecture combines the ancient, the futuristic, and the alien, a blue Federation flag blows in the wind. On a pole next to it is a yellow flag bearing the Starfleet insignia. In front of the flags, there is a monument in an angular, abstract design. Part of the monument is holographic, and as its shape slowly changes in three dimensions, names are visible in tiny script, each followed by a year.

An elderly woman is gazing at the monument, taking in the names of the fallen. She has weathered skin, and wears a black and blue headscarf and a Starfleet uniform with purple-grey shoulders. On her blue collar are pips denoting the rank of lieutenant commander. She stands to the side of a small crowd of humans and aliens.

A young woman is approaching from behind. She is short, with shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes. She wears the grey uniform of cadet, with black trim and pants, and her combadge has the shine of one freshly replicated, bearing the wire frame of the Starfleet insignia in front of two trapezoidal vertical bars.

The old woman smiles as the cadet stands next to her. "Peace be upon you, Zia."

"And upon you, peace, grandmother." The two exchange a hug.

"I'm glad you're here. There are fewer people here every year."

"I try to make it every Federation Day," the young woman says. "But it has special resonance this year."

"Yes, I'm sure it does. How is your first semester?"

"Challenging. But I really do feel like I belong. That I'm in the right place."

"I'm glad to hear that." Her grandmother turns back to the flags. "You're the first of our family in Starfleet since I left."

"I was inspired by you, grandmother. Your stories about your time on the _Enterprise_."

"Ah yes. I do miss those days, sometimes." There is a faraway look in her eyes. "It's mostly the people I miss. My friends. And of course, Captain Picard, Commander Data, and the rest of them. We junior officers didn't interact with them much, but they were all such wonderful people."

"It's my dream to serve on the new _Enterprise_."

The old woman says nothing for a long time.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Zia."

The young woman hesitates. "Why did you leave Starfleet?"

Her grandmother looks pensive. "Because of this, mostly," she says, gesturing towards the cenotaph. "We lost so many. To the Borg during the temporal incursion incident. To the stone-faced killers from the Gamma Quadrant. So many of my friends." She breathes deeply. "And I couldn't shake the idea that it was all a result of Starfleet's mission. Galactic exploration. Would any of the wars we've fought have happened, if we hadn't kept boldly going where we shouldn't have gone? How many member worlds of the Federation paid the price because they believed in our ideals, in our project? In Starfleet? We humans were so arrogant back then. But in some ways, the Federation has outgrown us, and I think it may be for the best. People just want to live in peace."

"There's still a need for Starfleet," the cadet says.

"Yes, of course." The old woman looks at her compassionately. "And I am so proud of you, my granddaughter, and I know you'll be such a fine officer. But just remember that a lot of people join Starfleet because they feel like they're missing something. And they feel like they will find it by ordering their life according to Starfleet's principles, or that they can find it out there in space. And there are a lot of beautiful, terrible things in space. But what you're looking for, you won't find it in space. We are the final frontier."

The cadet is silent.

"But do you know the one thing that I've never been able to get out of my head ,even after all these years?"

"What, grandmother?"

"The time we all got Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome. I had it really bad. I turned into a lichen. I wasn't even able to form thoughts, but I was aware of it, somehow. It's very hard to explain. To completely lose your humanity…" She stares once again at the flags. "Starfleet's therapists are second to none. But that's something that just… you're never quite the same."

* * *

 **Sector GC807, Galactic Core, 2459**

 _Captain's Log, Stardate 136645.8_

 _After hitting the half-way point of our four-month mission,_ Icarus _has arrived at Lambda Taurus 8-vii, the first world we've encountered in the Galactic Core with signs of a functioning civilization. After receiving an automated signal, we're preparing to make first contact with the Taurii, as we call them, on the inhospitable moon they call home. Scans have determined that the Taurii are colonial lifeforms, where each 'individual' Tauri is a composite of thousands of smaller lifeforms, while at a macro level, they live in a complex civilization. Because conventional warp travel is impossible in the Galactic Core, Starfleet Command has agreed with me that we may initiate contact with non-warp-capable species of equivalent technological advancement. I've left Dr. Alomar in command of_ Icarus _, and for the away team, I've opted to use bio-mods rather than environmental suits to allow us to survive in the moon's methane-based atmosphere, as Commander Sparks has advised me that face-to-face first contacts almost universally go more smoothly._

Three Starfleet officers materialize in the midst of a thick orange-brown haze, two humans and a Tellarite. They are standing in the middle of a wide, high chamber seemingly hewn from dark stone. The space is illuminated by glowing translucent spheres of shifting colours which seem to float above their heads. Standing around the chamber is a small crowd of grey tube-shaped beings, approximately two to three meters tall. The tubes are gnarled and knotted like tree trunks, pale grey in colour, and stand upright in the dense atmosphere on a thick mass of black tendrils.

The captain catches her first officer's eye as her modified lungs adjust to the noxious atmosphere. "Ready?"

"Always," replies the first officer, a tall, well-built man with dark skin and a close-cropped beard.

"I still think this is a bad idea," the Tellarite grunts.

"They wanted to meet the woman who developed superspace drive," the captain tells her. "Just behave."

One of the beings steps forward from the group toward the officers. A series of black polyps emerge from crevasses in the being's shell and point at the captain as she steps forward.

"Greetings," she says. "I am Captain Zia Rashid of the United Federation of Planets. This is my first officer, Commander Isaiah Sparks, and my chief engineer, Dr. Pon. We are on a mission of exploration in this region of space. We come in peace."

The alien towers over Rashid, and seems to slide towards her on the tendrils.

The polyps begin to flicker with phosphorescent light in pale colours. As they blink red and blue, purple and yellow, the officers hear a synthetically rendered voice from the alien.

"Greetings, visitors from another place." they say. "We are Shale Plain 67451. On behalf of the League of Clades, we welcome you to our world."

Pon leans close to Sparks and whispers, "A bioluminescence-based language. Interesting. You don't see that very much." Sparks nods in acknowledgment, focused intently on the Taurii.

"We come from the Galactic Rim," Rashid is saying. "The Federation is an alliance of over 200 different species, committed to principles of peaceful coexistence, scientific development and self-fulfillment of individuals and communities. My ship, _Icarus_ , is the first Federation vessel in the Galactic Core, and part of our mission is to establish relations with the peoples of this region." She smiles. "I hope this meeting can be the beginning of a harmonious relationship between the Federation and the League of Clades."

"That is our hope as well," the alien says. A second Tauri moves forward, and the first continues, "We present Grew-in-Daylight 246113, expert on alien life who constructed the probe which made contact with you."

Rashid's eyes focus on the second Tauri, which is taller and more gnarled than the first, its shell splitting into two branches near the top. "It is an honour to meet you," she addresses the being.

"We are honoured as well," they say. "The existence of life beyond our world has been proven for many cycles, but we have never directly encountered an alien species before. We wish to know: how have you solved the conundrum of faster-than-light travel?"

Pon shuffles forward. "Well, that's kind of hard to explain, because first you need to have some understanding of warp mechanics. Which maybe you have, but why would you, when the stellar density in the Galactic Core makes warp travel impossible? Which is where superspace mechanics come in. One day I thought to myself, 'I bet it's possible to sustain a warp field if you create a static field of superspace _inside_ the subspace bubble.' But of course you normally can't do that because of the La Forge differentials. But I was able to get around that particular problem by using repolarized anti-proton bursts routed through the deflector grid of the ship to invert the transphasic field harmonics of the superspace field. Kind of obvious, in hindsight."

"Fascinating," says Grew-in-Daylight.

Shale Plain tilts toward Rashid. "It is almost time for the Standing, a ritual among our people during which we engage in discourse while absorbing nutrients. It is said that Standing together forms the foundation of true friendship. While your biological requirements may be different than ours, we hope you will engage in the social aspects of the ritual with us."

"We would be honoured," Rashid says.

The Tauri's polyps face Grew-in-Daylight. "Join us as well, elder."

The second Tauri says nothing. Shale Plain drifts toward them, then pauses when a black, dome-shaped device with red lights emerges from one of the branches of Grew-in-Daylight's shell.

Pon's tricorder beeps. She opens it and a look of alarm appears on her face. "Captain," she whispers, "that device generates lambda radiation. If it turns on, we're all going to die."

Grew-in-Daylight drifts toward them. "Control of my actions has been taken over by a faction of my internal population who believe that we must seize control of your ship by any means necessary. It is crucial for the development of our species."

"Elder," Shale Plain says to them, "you must return control of yourself to your legitimate internal government. You cannot act according to the dictates of a fanatical minority within you. We must establish good relations with these aliens."

"We are prepared to provide you access to our ship's technical schematics," Rashid adds. "You have knowledge of this region of space – we came here with the intention to arrange an exchange of information. There's no need for violence."

"It is too late," Grew-in-Daylight says. "We have used our security clearance to reprogram the League's defensive arsenal. It will disable the alien ship and kill its crew. You may not agree with us, Shale Plain. But if you try to prevent this, we will activate this device and kill us all, and the outcome will be the same. The League will have the alien ship."

Several Taurii begin to approach Grew-in-Daylight, who leans toward them threateningly. The device begins to glow, and the Taurii back down.

Rashid discreetly touches her combadge. "Rashid to _Icarus_. Tomas, do you read me?"

There is no answer. She casts a glance at Sparks and asks in a low voice, "Your opinion as a first contact specialist, Commander?"

He watches the Taurii intently and strokes his close-cut beard. "Normally I'd say we sit tight and hope the aliens work it out among themselves, but if we're at risk of losing the ship…"

"I agree." She glances at Pon. "Are they jamming us? Can you get through it?"

She taps her tricorder and scowls. "I can't figure out where it's coming from. Their technology is _gnarfing_ bizarre."

"Keep at it," Rashid tells the Tellarite. Then she approaches Grew-in-Daylight, whose shell is now partially inside a translucent sphere. "Allow us to return to our ship, and we can reach a peaceful solution. The Federation does not want conflict, but if you kill us, it will be considered a hostile act."

"All the more reason we must study your technology," Grew-in-Daylight responds, moving out of the sphere. "Our commands have been issued to the orbital weapons system, and all further communication has been severed. Even we cannot stop the system now."

High above their heads, in the thin outer reaches of the moon's atmosphere, several dozen small, angular spacecraft materialize. They fly in a geometric formation into the starlit space above the moon, cast in the blue light of the gas giant, and move towards _Icarus_.

On the bridge of the small Starfleet vessel, Dr. Tomas Alomar watches the approaching craft on the viewscreen which extends around the bridge in all directions, giving the appearance of being open to space. "Tactical analysis, Lieutenant Avala," the middle-aged man says in a deep, rich voice.

The young Andorian's antennae point toward Alomar. "It looks like a planetary weapons system, sir. They appear to be drones, and they're heavily shielded – I doubt our weapons will do much against them."

"Sir," says Lieutenant Susan Sorensen, a pale human woman in her late thirties seated at the science station, "I'm detecting a power surge coming from the drones. It looks like they're generating a lot of lambda radiation."

Alomar leans forward in the captain's chair. "Yellow alert. Take us away from those drones, Mr. Rylek. Two thirds impulse."

"Aye, sir," the young Vulcan ensign replies.

The arrowhead-shaped prow of the ship turns away from the drones, which dart past the _Icarus'_ four nacelles and affix themselves to the stern section.

The bridge shudders slightly as the drones make impact. Sorensen looks up from her console, an expression of anxiety on her face. "They're trying to interface with the main computer. It looks like they're trying to rewrite our systems."

Alomar looks stern. "If this is their way of saying hello, it's a bit intrusive for my liking. Lock out our primary systems."

The lights dim, and the consoles fade from reality before reconsolidating as the secondary matter projectors activate. "I've set up a polyalgorythmic firewall," Sorensen reports, "but I can't say how long it'll hold."

"Can we transport them off our hull?" Alomar asks.

"Negative, sir," Avala replies through gritted teeth. "They're generating too much radiation."

"Sir," Rylek says to Alomar, his voice wavering, "I have lost access to helm control."

Alomar glances at a holographic readout near the right arm of the command chair. "It looks like life support is next. Vanda, do we have a two-way link with their computer system? Perhaps two can play at this game."

Avala throws up her hands in frustration. "I wish I could, but I have no idea what I'm looking at. This isn't like any other computer system I've ever seen."

The lights flicker again. Alomar leans back in the command chair. "What about our passenger? She used to work as a code breaker for the Orion Syndicate, did she not?"

Avala narrows her dark blue eyes. "Respectfully, sir, I think it would be extremely unwise to give her access to the main computer."

"And yet if we do nothing, there may not be a main computer left." He taps a holographic symbol. "Alomar to Lerex. Report to the bridge immediately."

There is no response. He turns to Rylek. "Ensign, she's proven most willing to speak to you. Internal sensors show she is in the holodeck. Get her up here."

"Aye, sir." Rylek leaves his station and enters the turbolift. After a moment, he emerges in a corridor on a lower deck of the ship. He steps through the holodeck door and emerges on a cliffside next to a vast, iridescent river. A distant, luminous planet hangs overhead, and behind it, the galaxy stretches across the night sky. Sitting on a green bank overlooking the water is a woman clad in a black jumpsuit, facing away from him.

"Lerex," he says.

She turns to face him. Her dark hair frames the intricate tattoos covering her face, and one eye is covered by a green eyepiece mounted on a cybernetic implant attached to her temple. "What do you want?"

"The ship is under attack," he tells her. "We require your expertise."

"I'm not going to help you," Lerex says, her voice quick and nervous. "It doesn't matter to me what happens to this ship. Let me die here on Romulus."

"Romulus does not exist anymore."

"I abandoned my mission. By our code of honour, I should not exist either."

The ship lurches, and the holographic landscape flickers. Rylek steps closer. "Captain Rashid could have left you to die on the planet where we found you. Instead, she took you on board. She gave you a second chance at life. Does your code of honour not obligate you to repay her?"

Lerex stares at him for a moment, then stands, reaching out her cybernetic hand.

"Come with me to the bridge," he tells her.

"There will be no need for that," the Romulan replies. A red light glows on the palm of her hand, and their holographic surroundings vanish, replaced by thousands of lines of translucent alien code which spin around her. Her eyes roll back into her head as she manipulates the code. Soon, it snaps into alignment and vanishes.

Lerex faces Rylek. "It's done. Tell your captain my debt to her is paid."

Rylek blinks, glancing around the empty holodeck. "You have my thanks."

"I'm not interested in your thanks." Her green eyes seem to peer through him. "But we are kin. There was no need for you to needlessly perish."

"Thank… I mean, I concur with your logic."

Lerex is expressionless. "You may leave now."

"Er… yes." Rylek hurriedly exits the holodeck and returns to the bridge. After he leaves, Lerex opens her cybernetic hand, and the red light reactivates.

The turbolift doors open and Rylek enters the bridge. Alomar turns the command chair to face the young Vulcan. "Great work, ensign. The probes have been disabled. It seems we may have some use for Lerex after all."

"Yeah," Avala adds. "I just wish she wasn't always such a c–" She is interrupted by a beep from her console, and her antennae dart toward it. "I've reestablished contact with the away team."

"Put them through," Alomar tells her.

There is a burst of static which resolves into a male voice. "Commander Sparks here. Come in, _Icarus_."

"This is _Icarus_ ," Alomar replies.

"It's good to hear from you, Tomas. What's your status?"

"We had some trouble with some of the locals' automated weaponry, but we were able to disable them. Largely thanks to our Romulan guest."

"Glad to hear she's doing something besides monopolizing the holodeck," Sparks says. "Can you get a lock on us?"

Avala nods, and Alomar says, "Aye, sir."

"Very good," Sparks replies, glancing at Rashid, who is watching the Taurii closely. "Stand by for transport." He approaches the captain and says in a low voice, "I've made contact with _Icarus_. The Tauri weapon is disabled, and they're ready to beam us aboard."

"Tell them to stand by," Rashid tells him. "I think we can resolve this here."

"Sir, if we can get out of here now, we should do it. Protocol dictates we let the aliens resolve this themselves."

"I agree with Sparks," Pon says in a coarse whisper, her beady eyes trained on the aliens. "We should get the hell out of here. I don't give a _gnarf_ about these tube people."

Rashid holds up a hand. "Just hang on. That's an order."

"Captain," Pon protests as Rashid steps toward Grew-in-Daylight, who is still brandishing the radiation device. "We've disabled your orbital weapon," she addresses the being.

"It matters not," they say. "We have you here. If your crew does not deliver your ship to us, you will die."

"I don't think you're going to do that," Rashid says to the being.

"You doubt my resolve," they say.

"I think you're a scientist," she replies. "Like me."

"I know that my people cannot survive on this world alone," Grew-in-Daylight replies, their fronds gesticulating rapidly, generating a dizzy cloud of luminescent colours. "A single world can be destroyed by a burst of gamma radiation or any number of other phenomena beyond our control. We must travel to the stars. If I must forfeit my own life and yours to accomplish that goal, it is a price I will gladly pay."

Rashid narrows her dark eyes as she addresses the Tauri. "This doesn't have to be a zero-sum game. We can work together. My people are committed to peaceful scientific exchange. The League of Clades has valuable information about the Galactic Core, and if you're prepared to share that information, we're ready to pass on what we know about travel in this region. Scientist to scientist. We can bridge the gap between our peoples. All we have to do is trust each other."

The Tauri looms over her. "No. Surrender your ship to us."

"I'm not going to do that." She stares up at the alien.

"Then I will kill us all."

"If that's really how you want your first contact with an alien species to go," Rashid replies.

Shale Plain moves close to Grew-in-Daylight. "She is right, Elder. Put down the weapon."

There is a long silence. Then Grew-in-Daylight's fronds retract into their shell.

"What is happening?" Rashid asks.

"The Elder has entered internal negotiations," Shale Plain explains. "I will commune with them to ensure the negotiations are successful."

Shale Plain's tendrils wrap around Grew-in-Daylight's shell and probe into the crevasses. Several other aliens move forward and extend their tendrils into Grew-in-Daylight.

Rashid backs up, and Sparks steps to her side, his hand near his combadge, watching the interlocked aliens sway gently back and forth in the reddish-brown haze. "What do you think is going on in there?"

The toxic wind catches Rashid's dark hair. "I think," she says as the aliens move apart and the device descends back into Grew-in-Daylight's shell, "that our mission is a success."

* * *

The _Icarus_ transporter room is flooded with light, and Rashid, Sparks, and Pon materialize on the platform. Alomar smiles from behind the console. "Welcome back. All bio-mods have been removed."

"Yeah, no shit," Pon grunts. "Otherwise our flesh would be dissolving right now."

Ignoring the Tellarite, Alomar says to Rashid, "I trust the rest of your mission was a success?"

"It was." Rashid steps off the platform and tugs her uniform. "We participated in a ritual called the Standing, and set an agenda for future contact between the Federation and the League of Clades. Dr. Pon was even able to keep her complaining to herself for a change."

"I have never been so bored in my entire life," Pon grumbles as they step into the turbolift.

"Bridge," Rashid says. She turns to Pon as the lift moves. "It wasn't really that different from your mud baths."

"It was _entirely_ different," she retorts.

"And I'm happy to see the ship still in one piece," Rashid says to Alomar. "It's good to put your officer training to use, old friend." The lift door opens. "Isaiah, you have the bridge. Set a course to the subspace relay. I'll do the paperwork to send to Starfleet."

"Aye, captain," Sparks replies as Rashid and Pon exit the lift. As Sparks moves to leave, Alomar gestures for him to stay behind.

"How was she?" the doctor asks in a low voice.

"Better," Sparks answers quietly. "More animated than I've seen her in weeks. You're still concerned about her?"

"As our captain, no. But as her friend… she seems troubled. Perhaps it's nothing. But do keep an eye on her for me, please."

"Of course, doctor." They exit the lift, and Sparks sits in the command chair and gazes at the viewscreen, stroking his black beard. The brown moon moves into the shadow of the gas giant, still illuminated by the ever-present glow of the stars of the Galactic Core.

 **Continued soon! Feel free to drop a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

_In her dream, Rashid is high above a planet. It stretches below her in all directions, and she falls toward it, arms spread wide. The wind whips her hair and uniform, and she gasps for breath._

 _"How am I alive?" she asks herself. "Where is my environmental suit?"_

 _Below her, a wide continent spreads throughout much of her field of vision, bounded by purple ocean and obscured in places by towering cloud formations. Her heart races as she falls, and as she descends deeper into the planet's atmosphere, she can see that the surface of the planet is a vast, ruined city partially overgrown by thick foliage._

 _"How can I be here?" she continues. "What is this place?"_

 _Then the landmass seems to form into a recognizable pattern. She sees Africa to the west, the Persian Gulf below her, and the Indian Subcontinent to the east._

 _"This is impossible!" she tries to shout, but the wind pulls the words from her mouth._

 _Then she sees flames, first at the edge of her field of vision, then consuming her. She screams but her voice is silent._

* * *

There is a soft tone. "It's 0600 hours," the computer says. "Wake up, Zia."

Captain Rashid opens her eyes. There is a porthole above her bed, and her face is illuminated by the light of the stars as they flash by.

"I can't," Rashid says, putting her pillow over her eyes.

"You can," the computer replies. "You did yesterday, and the day before, and you can do it again today."

"No," she whispers from under the pillow. "I can't. I can't."

"It's alright," the female voice says with an even tone. "Take your time, and try to breathe regularly."

"No," she sobs. "I shouldn't… this shouldn't be happening…"

"Do not be upset with yourself for having a panic attack. It is a neurobiological phenomenon and you can overcome it, as you have many times before. Do not fight it. Let it pass."

Rashid hyperventilates as the computer continues, "Do not think of the day as being monolithic, but instead as requiring a series of distinct tasks of you, each of which you are easily capable of doing." Her breathing begins to slow as the computer continues, "For example, Dr. Sorensen wants to speak to you. She said to meet her in Lab 2, and that she has made a fascinating discovery."

Rashid is silent for a moment, then pulls the pillow off her face. Her eyes adjust to the starlight.

"And Dr. Alomar is ready to meet for breakfast at your convenience. He is reviewing some material we received from Starfleet."

"Alright," Rashid says weakly. After a moment, she gets out of bed and wipes her eyes. She walks to the sonic shower and removes her tank top and shorts.

"You might consider requesting counseling services from Starfleet Medical," the computer tells her. "They have many resources available."

"I know." She activates the sonic shower.

"They are not going to relieve you of command," the computer says over the hum. "You have done nothing to warrant that."

"I know," she says again, stepping out of the unit. Her red uniform materializes on her. "I'm just not ready yet. To talk about what happened."

"That is understandable. But it is important to be proactive about mental health, as you are aware."

The captain holds out her hand and a small grey cylinder appears in her grip. One end is lit bright white and she runs it across her teeth, then releases it into the air and it dematerializes. "I'm also aware that I should have removed your Tellarite personality subroutines a long time ago. I don't need to have my ship's computer arguing with me and telling me what to do."

"You keep saying that, and yet you never do."

Rashid looks in the mirror. There are bags under her dark eyes. "Do I look like I've been crying?"

"No. You just look tired."

"So, normal then." Rashid puts on her combadge and leaves her quarters. The corridor is empty, the soft hum of the ship the only sound. She enters the turbolift. "Deck 2." As it starts to move, she says, "Hold. Tissue."

A tissue appears in her hand and she blows her nose, then drops it and it vanishes. "Continue."

Sorensen is waiting in the laboratory. She is younger than Rashid, thin with pale grey eyes and blond hair which is beginning to go prematurely grey. "Captain!" she says, her normally quiet voice tinged with excitement. "I was going over the latest data from Probe C and came across something really interesting."

There is a look of interest on Rashid's face. "Let's see it." She follows the science officer across the lab, which is dimly lit by an opaque porthole looking into space. Much of the room is taken up by a holographic star chart. There are lines moving around the stars, winding between and around them in a generally counterclockwise direction.

Rashid narrows her eyes and steps close to a semi-translucent holographic console. She gestures with her fingers and the map zooms in on the lines moving around the stars. "Is this a tachyon stream?"

Sorensen stands behind Rashid's shoulder, grinning. "It sure looks like it."

"I've never seen one even remotely that size before. Or this dispersed – they're usually fairly localized. Look how wide this one is."

"Over two sectors. And I'm going to need to run some more tests, but it's possible it runs all the way around the Galactic Core."

Rashid turns around. "There's usually some tachyon activity around black holes, isn't there? Maybe this was formed by Sagittarius A*."

"That's what I was thinking. It's fast, too. Some of the tachyons are travelling in excess of Warp 8."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

Both women are silent for a moment. Then Rashid puts her hand on Sorensen's shoulder. "Well, congratulations! You may have just discovered the largest known tachyon phenomenon."

"Thank you, sir," she smiles.

"Contact the bridge. have them set a course toward the stream. But not too close." Rashid walks to the hologram and reaches into it. When she pulls her hand back, a miniaturized version of it floats in the palm of her hand. "I'm going to get some breakfast, and I'll meet you back here shortly. Do you want anything?"

"No thanks, captain."

Rashid smiles warmly. "Good work, Susan."

"Thanks."

Rashid returns to the lift. "Deck 3." As they descend, she says, "Thanks for talking me through that earlier."

"You do not need to thank me. I am the ship's computer."

"Just say you're welcome." The door opens and she steps out, examining the small hologram as it floats before her eyes. She pauses in front of a door, then touches it with her index finger. There is a tone.

A moment later, the door opens, and Alomar is tugging his blue uniform down. "Good morning, Zia."

"Good morning, Tomas."

He peers at the hologram. "What is that?"

"Susan thinks it's a massive tachyon stream in orbit of the center of the galaxy."

Alomar's eyes widen. "Wow. I've never seen one like that before."

"No one has."

"Well." They walk together to the common room. "Never a dull moment."

"Not when you're boldly going where no one has gone before."

"Indeed."

The door opens to the common room. There are two tables near a stylized replicator unit, and soft seating looking out a wide portal looking out of the underside of the saucer section, facing the bow of the ship. Pon sits at one of the tables gnawing on a slab of meat, her back to the door.

Rashid silently tips her head towards the Tellarite. Alomar mouths, "Must we?"

She nods and smiles grimly. There is a look of resignation on Alomar's face, and they replicate breakfast and coffee and walk up to Pon. "Mind if we join you, commander?"

Pon looks up at them with her beady eyes. There is a thick black sauce on her tusks. She grunts and gestures for them to sit.

"What is that?" Alomar gestures to the remains of Pon's meal.

"Dog."

Alomar makes a face.

Pon scowls. "Oh, come on. Obviously it's from the replicator. But even if it was real, you humans have no right to judge us for eating canine. Especially when all your breeds are so delicious."

Rashid holds out her hand and the hologram materializes. "Did you see this?"

"Oh yes. Sorensen showed me earlier. Never seen a tachyon stream like that before. In fact, I think it's probably better to think of it as not one stream, but several million." She glances at Alomar. "Tachyons are particles that move faster than light."

"I know what tachyons are," Alomar retorts.

Pon eyes the doctor's food. "How is eating unfertilized bird ova less disgusting than eating dog?"

"I'd rather not have this argument right now," the doctor protests.

"Because you're going to lose."

Rashid looks closely at the hologram. "I guess we should take a closer look. Do you think it poses any danger?"

"Not if we configure the deflector array properly."

The door slides open. Lerex steps in, then pauses when she sees the officers staring at her.

"Join us," Rashid says to the Romulan with warmth in her voice.

Saying nothing, Lerex walks to the replicator, synthesizes a bowl of viinerine, and awkwardly sits between Rashid and Pon. She looks between them, sitting a conspicuous distance from the table.

"Got tired of the holodeck?" Pon inquires.

"The Andorian booked it," Lerex replies curtly.

"It's probably one of Avala's old Andorian space operas," Pon chortles. "Probably dragged Rylek along too. You should see how Vulcans are portrayed in those. It's hilariously offensive."

Lerex regards Pon coolly. "What is the nature of their relationship?"

Pon grins. "Ah. That's a good question. So Avala and Rylek were in the same intensive astrophysical training program at Starfleet Academy, and it's fairly obvious that he's in love with her, but she saw him as a friend. But they sort of got physical on our last away mission, which is awkward because Avala and Commander Sparks were sleeping together for a while but that got complicated with him being her commanding officer. Not to mention that Rylek and Dr. Sorensen needed to do a mind meld and suddenly have this very close bond. Small crew, close quarters. Lots of drama." She chuckles, then gestures to Rashid and Alomar. "Not from the happily married people at this table, though. We all have husbands back home. I have four. But anyway, Avala and Rylek are now making this big show of things being normal between them, but I have no idea what's going on. I suspect they don't either."

"He should not pollute himself by contact with her," Lerex says.

Rashid casts her a steely look. "You will not talk about my officers like that."

Lerex regards her with a mix of anxiety and contempt. "I had thought your Federation provided freedom of self-expression."

"That freedom does not mean you can make hateful comments about my crew without consequence."

There is a long silence. Eventually, Alomar ventures to break the tension. "I could remove those, you know. Starfleet doctors have sadly had to become quite proficient at removing Borg implants."

Her expression is blank. "Without them, I would not have been able to stop the alien weapon that attacked this ship."

"And we are thankful for that. But I have no doubt that the Syndicate cyberneticians were only too happy to graft onto you whatever contraband Borg technology they could find, with no regard for your long-term health. Not to mention those implants are extremely illegal in the Federation."

"Have you ever heard the Collective?" Rashid asks Lerex.

"No. That would require a cortical node implant, which I do not have."

"Probably for the best," Pon tells her.

Lerex is silent for a moment. "I… yes. I would like them removed. I wish to be pure again."

Alomar nods with a faint expression of surprise. "Very well. I will need to do some preliminary scans first; I could begin later this morning if you like. Say, eleven hundred hours?"

"Yes. That is agreeable." Lerex examines her cybernetic hand. Then she stands, holding her bowl. "I must… prepare myself." She walks briskly for the door, then freezes and turns to face them, hesitating as if unsure what to say. "I am… grateful to you." Then she abruptly leaves the common room.

The officers watch as the door slides shut. "What's your assessment of her?" Rashid asks Alomar.

"It's difficult to say without a full psychiatric assessment," he replies. "But it's very likely that the implants have caused some neurological damage. Given what the Orion Syndicate did to her, she may also be suffering from PTSD."

"Maybe once the implants are gone, she'll be ready to tell us how the hell she got to the Galactic Core," Pon scowls. "She said she came here on a Romulan ship, but there's no way any Romulan could have superspace inversion technology. It's impossible for her to be here."

"Something doesn't feel right about all of this," Rashid says. "Be careful, Tomas."

"Always."

Rashid casts a long glance at Pon. "You don't think Vanda and Rylek are secretly a couple? My guess was that they were. They're spending a lot of time together."

"Nah," Pon grins, bearing her fangs. "Rylek's still a virgin. I can smell it."

"Ugh, Pon, just… don't..." Rashid makes a face.

"Heh heh heh," the Tellarite chortles.

* * *

 _Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate 136660.4_

 _Our Romulan passenger has consented to have her cybernetic implants removed and is arriving shortly for preliminary scans. In preparation, I have reviewed the literature on so-called "code breakers," who are generally victims of human trafficking, often children, crudely fitted with cybernetic implants and coerced into aiding criminal organizations in their activities. I've identified three cases where members of the Romulan diaspora were subjected to this loathsome practice and successfully had their implants removed, and I am confident that the procedure will be a success for Ms. Lerex. However, I fear her psychological rehabilitation will be a much longer and more difficult process._

The sickbay door opens and Lerex tentatively steps inside. One wall appears to be open to space, and the lights of warp speed illuminate the room. There are two bio-beds, one inactive and one lit by a blue light. Alomar is sitting at a desk at one side of the room, examining a holographic readout. Seeing her enter, he stands. "Ah. Hello, Lerex."

"Doctor."

He gestures toward the active bio-bed. "Please, have a seat."

She walks toward the unit, her eyes on Alomar as he approaches. "The scans should not take long," he informs her. "I will have to ask you a few questions as well in order to prepare myself for the operation. I can't say for sure how long it will take me to go through the results, but I hope to be ready to operate within the next few days, if you're ready."

"I am ready for what must happen," she says. She opens her cybernetic hand, and Alomar sees that she is holding several small, triangular devices which glow a dull green.

"What are those?" Alomar asks. Then his eyes widen. "Wait…"

She takes one of the devices with her organic hand and attaches it to the blue fabric of Alomar's uniform. He begins to protest as a shimmering green light surrounds him, and he dematerializes.

"For what must happen," Lerex repeats. She faces the palm of her cybernetic hand at the bio-bed, and a holographic display of code appears above it. Then she places one of the devices on the bed, and it glows green and vanishes.

The Romulan turns and exits the sickbay, walking briskly to the turbolift. "Deck six," she says as she enters the lift. She opens her cybernetic hand and opens it over the lift control panel near the door. A red light shines from her palm onto the panel. Then the door opens, and does not close as she steps out of the lift.

Ahead of her is a wall with a set of consoles divided by a short ladder which leads to an upper level lit by the blue glow of the warp core. The room is filled with the noise of clattering electronic percussion, and Pon stands at the superspace inversion matrix, a dome-shaped object covered with glowing readouts. She is loudly singing along with the percussion in Tellarite:

"Hey potential mate

Why don't you get in the mud with me

In the mud

Get in it deep

My mud is the muddiest

Viscous and moist

Like in the Gargva Valley

You know what I mean

I like it

You like it

In the mud

With me

Maybe we will copulate…"

Lerex approaches Pon softly, and is right behind her before she turns around. Startled, she shouts, "What the f –"

Lerex places one of the triangular devices on Pon's uniform, causing her to vanish. Then she accesses the controls of the dome-shaped unit. Her eyes roll back into her head, and the readouts change. The unit powers down. After a moment, the ship shudders as it is thrown to sublight speed, adrift in an empty region surrounded on all sides by a dense starfield.

She continues to ply the unit's subroutines as a red light begins to emanate from the walls and a klaxon sounds. Then the red glow from the palm of her cybernetic hand intensifies, and the klaxon goes silent as all the lights and consoles in the engineering bay go dark, leaving only the starlight. Then the auxiliary computer activates and the lights return, more dimly this time. Lerex's eyes are closed. A small trickle of green blood runs from where the cybernetic implant in her temple meets her tattooed skin.

Suddenly she is struck in the shoulder by a beam of red light, and collapses to the ground. As she loses consciousness, an implant at the base of her neck glows, and her body stiffens as stimulants course through her.

"Captain," a female voice says from the lower level, "Avala here. Lerex was in Engineering. I just stunned her. I don't see Pon anywhere."

Lerex stands, her eyes wide. "Wait," Avala says as her antennae point toward the upper level of the bay. "She's…"

The Romulan reaches out her hand to access the ship's computer again, and the gravity on the lower level reverses. Avala falls upward, taking a shot at Lerex with her phaser rifle as she falls which narrowly misses. She hits the ceiling hard. Lerex's face is a mask of rage as she restores the gravity to its initial orientation, and Avala screams as she falls ten meters back to the floor. Then Lerex reverses the gravity again, causing the Andorian to crash from the floor to the ceiling and back, again and again. Eventually Avala's screams stop, and Lerex closes her palm as the Andorian lands on the floor in a heap of broken bone and blue blood.

Twitching uncontrollably, Lerex places one of the triangular devices on the superspace inversion matrix. The unit disappears. As Lerex places the last device on herself, Rashid emerges from the Jeffries tube access at the lower level. Her eyes meet Lerex's as the Romulan dematerializes.

Then Rashid sees Avala's broken body. "Oh my god," she whispers as she reaches for the tricorder on her hip. She opens the unit with shaking hands and says, "Medical stasis field." Then she sets it on the floor near where Avala lies, and there is a faint shimmering around her still body.

Sparks emerges from the Jeffries tube, phaser drawn. He hurries to the captain's side, his eyes widening at the sight of Avala.

Rashid stands, trying to hide the look of pain on her face. "Status report, commander?"

"The main computer is totally shot. I don't know what Lerex did to it, but we're going to have to completely reinstall it. The auxiliary computer is holding up better, but I don't think we can safely use the transporters or warp drive."

"Warp drive is of no use to us right now," Rashid says, gesturing to the upper level of the bay.

Sparks narrows his eyes. "The SIM is gone."

"Without the ability to generate a superspace field, we're dead in the water. And Pon isn't here."

"Lerex hit sickbay, too."

"Tomas?" Rashid asks.

"Gone. Along with a bio-bed."

Rashid's jaw tightens. "I should have seen this coming."

"Giving her asylum was the right thing to do. The alternative was leaving her to die on that planet," he reminds her. "This is on her. Not you."

Rashid glances out the window at the starscape. "Are we still in range of the relay station?"

Sparks nods. "I had Rylek advise Starfleet of our situation."

"Well, that's some good news at least."

Sparks stares at Avala, his expression grave. "Will she…?"

"I'm not sure," Rashid tells him. "But I have an old friend who may be able to help her. Get me Starfleet Command."

 **To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

A blazing white sun shines high in a yellow sky. A thin, singular planetary ring stretches overhead from horizon to horizon.

Below, across a wide plain of yellow-brown sand, a procession of aliens is marching. They are over two meters tall and plated by chitinous exoskeletons. They walk on four insect-like legs, with two additional arms which end with three scythe-like claws. Their heads are squat, with two eyes on each side of their heads and four tusk-like mandibles around their mouths. Most of the creatures are various shades of maroon and purple, but one is jet-black, with a thin, vertical white stripe along the center of its body from head to tail. Its hands are restrained together by a localized forcefield, and it is being led by the others to a clear circle of black stone.

One of the creatures extends a long tongue from its mouth, and as it unrolls, a small black device becomes visible. With a thumb-like appendage near the end of its tongue, it presses a button on the device, and the prisoner is pulled roughly to the ground and restrained by forcefield. Its eyes focus on its captors, and it hisses softly.

The rest of the aliens form a ring around the bare, dusty circle, and two of them, the largest of the aliens, step into the ring. Both are deeply scarred, and they growl in a low, sibilant tone. All the beings then bend their legs, bringing their bodies close to the ground.

There is a surge of energy in the centre of the ring, and a semi-transparent tetrahedron appears, casting white light around it. A telepathic voice emanates from within it, in a voice that all can understand:

 _"I am Law. I am here to judge this accused, who is charged with theft and piracy."_

The black and white alien bound by the forcefields glares at the triangular object, which continues:

 _"This district is the domain of the Bal'Horai; therefore, the trial shall proceed according to Bal'Horai custom. Glory be to the Civilization and to rule of law, which shall last as long as the Eternal River Flows."_

The aliens recite something in unison in their guttural, clicking language. Nearby, a group of small, yellowish aliens have gathered. They have knobbish limbs, long, thin ears, and a single purple eye at the center of their faces.

 _"Prosecution, step forward."_ One of the Bal'horai in the ring stands up, a purplish creature with claws nearly a meter long, sharp but nicked in places. He steps toward the center of the ring and unleashes a thundering roar.

 _"Defense, step forward."_ The second alien in the ring stands. This one is reddish-grey, slightly smaller but heavier than the other. A massive scar circles the left side of his head, as if a portion had been torn off and crudely reattached, and its left eyes are empty sockets. He growls ominously.

Then the object disappears, saying: _"Begin."_

A translucent golden forcefield surrounds the two Bal'Horai in the ring as they circle each other, warily at first.

The defense lunges forward, snapping his claws and hissing. The prosecution responds in kind, attempting to catch his rival's claws. His blades dig into the defense's, driving them into the dust. A loud bellowing erupts from the aliens outside the ring.

The defense roars, leaps forward, and crashes his shell into the prosecution, knocking them both to the ground. The defense is on his feet first, and he charges, but the prosecution draws his claws up and into the defense's underbelly, causing a spray of milky blood. He hurls his rival across the ring, and the defense slides in the dust, driving the talons on his feet into the ground to stop himself centimeters from the edge of the forcefield.

The prosecution is on his feet now, and strides across the ring and leaps onto the defense, driving his talons into his prone rival's side. He brings his claws downward in a crosswise motion, slicing off one of the defense's legs in a white spray of blood.

The defense unleashes a thunderous roar and plants his three remaining legs into the ground. He stands, forcing the prosecution off him and towards the forcefield. The prosecution's tongue darts forward and jabs into the defense's eye socket, causing him to howl in pain, but he drives the prosecution's thorax into the forcefield and disintegrates the side of his body, severing one of his arms.

Wounded, the prosecution attempts to crawl away, but the defense thunders toward him on his remaining legs. He seizes the prosecution by the waist, grips the prosecution's head in his mandibles, and crushes his skull in a spray of white while tearing his abdomen from his thorax.

The defense stands above the mutilated corpse and bellows, and the crowd erupts in growling and clicking noises.

The tetrahedron reappears above the remains of the prosecution. _"Innocent,"_ it declares.

The defense strides through the crowd of aliens. He seizes one of the diminutive yellow creatures and bites its head and upper body off, and crawls over a yellow dune, chewing.

As the crowd disperses, the forcefields binding the prisoner disappear. The striped Bal'Horai stands, then regurgitates a small, white device, which is cone-shaped and lit by pale purple lights. The hulking alien then begins to lope across the desert, followed by a crowd of chittering yellow aliens, toward a sleek triangular spacecraft hidden deep in the desert.

* * *

 _Captain's Log, supplemental._

 _We have been unable to locate Dr. Pon, Dr. Alomar, or the superspace inversion matrix unit. We have reason to believe Lerex used some form of subspace transporter, possibly stolen Dominion technology, to transport them to a Romulan ship located somewhere within this sector. Without the SIM unit, we are unable to form a warp field given the gravimetric pressure in the Galactic Core, and have no choice but to wait until Starfleet equips another ship with superspace inversion drive technology to mount a rescue mission. Fortunately, Starfleet has allowed an old friend to transfer aboard to help Lieutenant Avala._

 _Icarus_ hangs in the empty, starlit space, slowly rotating end over end.

In the engineering bay, Rashid, Sparks, and Sorensen work at one of the active consoles while Rylek stands over the stasis field containing Avala's broken form, a look of horror on his face.

"The uplink with Starfleet command is established," Sorensen reports. "Beginning data transfer."

"How do you know him?" Sparks asks.

Rashid examines the data on the screen. "We did a couple shows together during my musical theater days."

"Do you think he can help Vanda?"

Rashid's expression is grim. "If anyone can..."

There is flicker at the center of the room, and the crew turns as a man blinks in and out of existence. He appears to be in his sixties, mostly bald with a grey fringe of hair and a lined face. He wears a blue Starfleet uniform.

"Plea –" he begins. He freezes, then flickers in and out of being. "Plea-ea-ea-ea-ease st-t-t-t."

"Hang on," Sorensen says as she scowls at her console, adjusting the data transfer.

"-ate the nature of the medical emergency," the hologram says as he finally snaps into reality.

Rashid smiles grimly. "Hi, Joe."

"Zia," he replies, smiling back. "It's good to see you again."

"You too. I wish it was under better circumstances."

He looks at Avala, his expression stern. "I see. We should transport her to sickbay immediately," the doctor says in a low voice.

"Transporters are offline. But we can use the matter projectors to create a trauma station here. We can replicate anything you need."

"Very well. Let's get started."

"Computer," Rashid says, "Trauma station for Lieutenant Avala."

Where Avala lays, the floor becomes a padded surface which slides upwards, taking shape as a bio-bed. A set of trauma instruments materialize around it.

"I should introduce my crew. This is our pilot, Ensign Rylek." Rashid gestures to the ashen-faced young Vulcan standing close to the bio-bed. "And my first officer, Commander Isaiah Sparks, and my science officer, Lieutenant Susan Sorensen," she says of the two human officers who are looking at the hologram with reverence.

"Joe Pel," the hologram introduces himself, shaking the officers' hands. "Better known as the _Voyager_ EMH, I suppose."

"It's an honour to meet you, sir," Sparks says, clasping the hologram's hand, which has no temperature of its own.

The doctor reaches for Sorensen's hand, then freezes, his mouth open to begin to speak. Confused, Sorensen retracts her hand, then turns to the console. Before she can reach it, the doctor moves again, grasping at a temporarily accelerated speed for the space where she had been.

"Er, sorry, sir," Sorensen apologizes. "It must be the data transfer. I'll try to stabilize your program."

"Well, I did just travel half-way across the galaxy," the doctor replies with forced cheerfulness. He turns back to the bio-bed. "We should get started. Zia, your assistance, please?"

Rashid steps to his side, near where Rylek stands. To Sparks, "Why don't you and Rylek go to the bridge and oversee repairs."

"Aye, captain." Sparks puts his hand on Rylek's shoulder. "Come on, ensign."

Reluctantly, Rylek follows him to the Jeffries tube next to the non-functional turbolift. He pauses and asks the doctor, "Sir, do you believe you will be able to…" He trails off.

"I'll do what I can," the doctor says with compassion.

Sparks and Rylek climb the ladder in the cramped tube to the bridge, saying nothing.

The bridge is empty except for a few essential control panels and corresponding seats. The starlight shines in from all sides of the transparent dome. Sparks takes the command chair and says, "Let's try to find out what happened to Tomas and Pon. Run a full transpectral scan of our surrounding area."

"Aye, sir," Rylek mumbles distractedly as he takes the ops station.

Sparks watches the younger man with concern. "She's going to pull through this, you know. Vanda's a fighter. And she's getting help from one of the most accomplished doctors in Starfleet history."

"Yes, sir," Rylek says softly. "I have… every confidence in Dr. Pel's abilities."

Sparks strokes his beard. "And when she does pull through… I guess we haven't really talked about this, but I know you and Vanda have always been close… and anyway you'll get no objection from me if you two decide to… take it to the next level, if you haven't already."

Rylek chokes back a sob. A tear falls through the holographic display of his console and lands on the smooth surface underneath. "My… my apologies…"

"It's alright," Sparks reassures him.

"It is not," Rylek says, his voice shaking. "I am Vulcan. I should not cry… but I cannot stop worrying. And I feel such… rage toward Lerex." He swallows hard. "My mother died when I was young, and my father… he was never the same. He was consumed by emotion. Anger, resentment, depression… He could not participate in Vulcan society, and he slowly just… withered away…"

Sparks is silent for a time. "I've always wondered that about your people. It's obvious that you're every bit as capable of love as we are. And those feelings you're talking about… I could never understand how you could love without feeling the flip side when you lose what you love."

"We feel it, sir," Rylek says softly. "Some of us are able to control it. I have never been able to."

Sparks stares at the viewscreen. A tear runs down his cheek, reflecting the yellow-white light of the stars. "She's a hell of a woman."

"Yes she is."

There is a tone, and an alert appears on the ops station. Rylek examines it, his expression reverting to a semblance of neutrality.

"What have we got?" Sparks inquires. "Good news?"

"I am afraid not, sir," Rylek informs him. "Merely a pre-programmed transmission of data on the tachyon stream from our probe."

Sparks narrows his eyes. "The Emissary's journey."

"Sir?"

He stands and walks to Rylek's console. "I used to serve on _Deep Space Nine_ , and there was a memorial to Benjamin Sisko."

"The Dominion War hero?"

"On Bajor, he was more than that. He was the Emissary… sort of like a saint. And there was this museum… almost like a shrine to him, but it was run by the Ferengi and was a bit of a scam. But they'd collected memorabilia from his life. One of his less-known achievements was replicating a sublight Bajoran solar sailing vessel's journey to Cardassia. By riding a tachyon stream."

Rylek raises his eyebrow. "I suppose it is possible that the tachyon particles could carry a sublight object to warp speed, if it had sufficient surface area."

Sparks looks at the viewscreen with interest. "That's where they are. The Romulans. That's how they get around the Galactic Core, without otherwise being able to form a warp field. How far are we from the edge of the stream?"

Rylek looks at his console. "At maximum impulse, four days, eighteen hours, thirty-six minutes."

"Lay in a course, ensign." He folds his arms. "Let's find our people."

* * *

The medical hologram has a look of intense focus as he works.

First, he sets Avala's broken bones. Many are shattered into small pieces, but with the assistance of miniaturized tractor beams from the bio-bed, he and Rashid set them into their proper place.

Then he replicates a bio-regeneration stimulus. He temporarily disables one sector of the stasis field and places the small wand-like device over Avala's broken limbs, holding them in place with a steady hand. The cells of her bones regenerate, and the musculature around them.

Rashid uses a dermal regenerator to restore Avala's pale blue skin as the doctor uses a fine-tuned transport to disintegrate a small amount of her blood. The deep blue fluid rematerializes inside a small container. The doctor activates a biostimulator, and the blood cells rapidly divide as the replicator synthesizes plasma. Soon, several liters of thick blue blood are transported into her regenerating body.

The doctor opens a micro-aperture in the stasis field allowing him to access a section of her brain. With great care, he induces her brain cells to regenerate one tiny section at a time. When he is finished, he restores her fractured skull and regrows a broken antenna.

After hours of painstaking work, the doctor and Rashid step back from the bio-bed. "There's nothing more we can do," he tells her. "It's a huge shock to her system, and we have to let her body adjust to this. But I'm cautiously optimistic."

"I can't thank you enough, Joe," Rashid says. "We're in a bad situation right now, but having Vanda with us helps us immeasurably. And I couldn't bear to lose her."

Joe gazes at the sleeping Andorian. "You know, I went for decades without performing a surgery. Which is strange for a medical hologram to say. But I've realized that, whatever else I've become, my primary function has always been to heal. I'm happy to have been able to help you."

"Well, I owe you one. If you're doing _Chicago_ again and need an alto, give me a call."

The doctor smiles. "You'll be my first call."

"You don't think I'm serious, but I am – I'll suspend my Starfleet commission."

"Captain," comes Sorensen's voice. Rashid and Joe turn to see the science officer standing next to Sparks as Rylek emerges from the Jeffries tube behind him. "Isaiah may be on to something."

Rashid looks at her first officer. "I notice we're moving again, commander."

"I think I know where she took Pon and Tomas," he says. "The tachyon stream. If Lerex was using a subspace transporter, she could have taken them to a ship in the stream. If it had a large enough membrane to collect particles, it could travel through the stream at warp."

Rashid strokes her chin. "That still doesn't explain how a ship from the Beta Quadrant could get this deep into the Core in the first place."

"There are possibilities," Sorensen says. "The _Enterprise-D_ was pulled into the core a hundred years ago by an advanced civilization. Or they could have found a wormhole. They could have even used mycelial technology."

Rashid glances at the upper level of the engineering bay. "They took the SIM unit. If they can integrate it with their warp drive, we'll never be able to follow them."

"Romulan technology is a lot different from ours," Sorensen replies. "It'll take them a while to make it compatible, if they can at all."

"If nothing else, we may be able to find some evidence of what the Romulans have been up to in this region, to point us in the right direction," Sparks says.

"What would it take for us to synthesize a particle collector to propel _Icarus_ to warp speed?" Rashid asks. "Computer?"

The computer answers, "You would need to replicate a membrane one point six microns thick and eight hundred seventy three meters in diameter."

"Let's make it so," Rashid says.

"Starfleet is not going to like this," Sparks tells her.

"Let me deal with Starfleet," she replies. "Do we still have an uplink with the relay?"

"We do."

She turns to the doctor and says in a low voice, "Listen Joe, I know I shouldn't ask you this, but with Tomas gone for the time being…"

"You could use a talented and dashing medical officer," the hologram replies.

"I don't want to disturb your retirement," Rashid says wryly.

"An intrepid Starfleet vessel, stranded in an uncharted region of space?" he says, a faraway look in his eyes. "How can I say no? And not to overstate my utility, but I think you can use all the help you can get."

"Well, we have you, and Vanda, and we're moving. That's something." She puts her hand on his shoulder. "Welcome aboard _Icarus_."

* * *

"…uck," Pon growls as she materializes in a wide hangar. She glares around the dimly lit space. In front of her are several ranks of gaunt, tattooed Romulans and expressionless Remans, each wearing body armour draped with intricately woven sashes, golden helmets on their heads. Above their heads are row after row of small fighter craft, with angled wings sloping forward to sharp points. Next to Pon, Alomar is knelt next to a Starfleet bio-bed, his hands clasped behind his head, with a Romulan and a Reman training their disruptor rifles on him. He meets Pon's eye, his expression tense.

A spindly Reman steps forward. She looks down at Pon with her dark compound eyes. "You are aboard the warbird _Syrinx_ ," she says in an eerie, buzzing voice, gesturing with long, pale fingers. "The last vestige of the Romulan Star Empire."

Pon scowls. "What do you want?"

"You have been brought here by the command of the Exarch."

There is a shimmering, and the subspace inversion matrix unit from _Icarus_ appears in the hangar.

Pon glares at the Reman. "That won't be compatible with your technology. And even if it was, I wouldn't help you with it."

"We shall see."

A moment later, Lerex materializes near the SIM unit. She faces the Reman and puts her fist to her chest in salute. " _Jolan tru_ , Centurion."

The Reman centurion salutes in response. "Subcommander Lerex," she says. "You have returned."

Pon casts a dark glare at Lerex. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? Captain Rashid trusted you. I trusted you. I thought you were better than this."

"I have done what I have done in the name of the Twin-Masked God and the Exarch," Lerex says, not looking at her.

"You think you can justify yourself by spouting Reman superstition?" Pon snarls.

The Reman centurion strikes Pon hard in the face with the butt of her disruptor pistol, causing her to fall to her knees. "Have some respect, Tellarite," the centurion hisses as two Romulan soldiers point their weapons at Pon's head.

Pon spits blood onto the deck and puts her hands behind her head. Alomar casts a concerned glance at her.

A door slides open at the far end of the bay, and the assembled troops bow. Lerex and the centurion both get on one knee in genuflection.

A Romulan strides into the bay, flanked by Romulan and Reman elite troops with body armour and faceless visors. The lead Romulan has a purple cape and sash over his muscular frame. His face is scarred and craggy, covered by ornate tattoos, and his hair is beginning to grey. He stands before Lerex.

"Exarch," she addresses him. "I have brought Starfleet technology for your glory and the glory of the Star Empire."

The Exarch examines them dispassionately. "And We are glorified," he says in a deep voice in the poetic cadence of the Old Romulan language. "But what was your mission, subcommander? To vex Starfleet?"

She hangs her head. "No, Great One. I was to retrieve technology belonging to extinct civilizations in this sector." She pauses. "I failed my mission."

The Exarch stands over her. "Are you yet Romulan?"

She is silent for a time. "I… I had hoped the technology I brought would restore my honour."

His expression does not change. "You dishonoured yourself when you disobeyed Our imperative. There can be no redemption. And yet these spoils will serve Us well. For that, I will allow you the honour of using my blade." He reaches to his side and pulls out an ornate sword, approximately a meter in length and crafted with a black metal which appears to flow along the length of the blade.

"Really?" Pon asks, incredulous. "Is this the best allocation of your scarce personnel?"

The Exarch regards her dispassionately, eyebrow raised. Then he presents the sword to Lerex. "Do you die as a Romulan?"

"Lerex," Alomar says urgently. "This does not need to happen."

She ignores him and takes the blade. Her organic hand shakes.

"I die a daughter of the Twin Worlds," she declares, then plunges the Exarch's sword into her abdomen until it emerges from her back, slicked green with blood. Her eyes bulge, and she coughs blood as she falls to her knees. Then she lists sideways and lands in a green pool of blood on the deck.

"In death, she has restored her purity," the Exarch intones. "But today is not the day that her _qat'a_ enters the presence of the Twin-Masked One." He turns to Alomar. "You will resuscitate her."

"Damn it, man," Alomar shouts, "she's dead!"

"I have heard that Death herself shrinks from the presence of Starfleet's mighty physicians," the Exarch replies. "And if not, she dies with honour. Computer, dematerialize her to the transporter pattern buffers."

There is a green shimmering and Lerex's corpse dissolves into the transporter's memory bank. The Exarch addresses the guards behind Alomar. "Take him to the infirmary. Once he has restored the subcommander, he will tend to our warriors who have been wounded in our conflict with the Bal'Horai."

"You are a madman," Alomar barks as the guards roughly lift him to his feet and shove him forward. He glowers at the Exarch as they lead him away.

The Exarch faces Pon. "Shalvath Pon'Dalaar," he addresses her. "Starfleet's last great inventor."

"I don't know, that seems a bit premature." She looks at her captors with contempt. "But I am sure as _gnarf_ not helping you use my superspace technology for whatever schemes you are planning, even if I could. Which I can't because it's impossible. So you may as well either send me back to my ship or kill me, and spare us all a lot of wasted time."

"You are sharp of tongue," he says.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere." She glances around. "And where in the hell are we? Even the longest-range subspace transporters could have only taken me a few light years from _Icarus_."

"We sail on the tachyon winds, like the first of the Raptor-Borne," the Exarch tells her.

"Well, that doesn't explain how you could have gotten deep enough in the Core to even reach the tachyon stream. Unless…" She pauses, her beady eyes scanning the ranks of expressionless warriors. "Shit, you went the long way, didn't you? Went outside of the Milky Way, and approached the Core from above or below the galaxy. Then after you crossed the Great Barrier where warp travel becomes impossible, you must have found somewhere you could reach the edge of the tachyon stream at impulse," Pon says, amazed. "How long did that take you?"

"We have been on our holy pilgrimage for eight years, eleven months, and thirteen days," the Exarch tells her.

"What, are you looking for Sha-Ka-Ree?"

The Exarch steps toward her, a slight look of bemusement on his face. "You are every bit as intransigent as We had expected. Make no mistake, Tellarite: you will either assist us of your own will, or I will shatter the exquisite vessel of your mind and harvest the knowledge within like an overripe _il'hyan_ fruit. Either way, you will assist Us. Our will is inexorable." He turns to the Reman. "Centurion, have her taken to the cells. Our engineers will require time to unlock the secrets of this Starfleet technology."

"As you wish, Great One," the Reman buzzes. She gestures to the two Romulan soldiers behind Pon, who force her to her feet.

"I did mention that the SIM is not at all compatible with your technology, right? I was not lying to you about that. Your ships are powered by forced quantum singularities! Which, by the way, is insane!" Pon shouts as the guards drag her away. "Insane!"

The Exarch turns to the vast forcefield which separates the hangar bay from the rapidly-passing stars and steps toward it, a look of concentration on his face.

The centurion follows close behind him. "Do you believe the Tellarite's claim that our technology is incompatible, my liege?"

The Exarch stops, the light of the passing stars illuminating his stern face. "Perhaps she tells the truth," he muses. "We will pray that this opportunity for a great tactical advantage does not come to nought. But even still, Our heart is gladdened by the return of Subcommander Lerex. We had come to see her almost as a wayward daughter. And though her dishonour was great, in death, she has redeemed herself."

"What if the Starfleet doctor proves to be as obstinate as his companion?"

"He will assist us." The Exarch nods to himself. "I have known men such as he. He lives according to his code. He will restore the subcommander. And then he will restore Our Beloved, who will stand by Us once again as we complete our most sacred task."

"Praise be unto the Twin-Masked One," the Reman intones.

"Praise be," the Exarch repeats.

They gaze outside the forcefield, which looks out into space between two of the warbird's six massive, semi-crescent shaped wings which sweep forward around the sleek prow of the warbird. Each wing is nearly two kilometers long, and from the point of each wing, a vast, dome-shaped membrane extends forward, collecting the tachyon particles which propel the immense ship at warp speed. The warbird and its sail shimmer in the starlight, then vanish.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**Port-au-Prince, Earth, 2447**

Rashid takes a deep draw from her vaporizer and leans on the railing at the edge of the rooftop, gazing past the spires of an ornate cathedral at the lights of the city. Behind her, the rooftop is lit by a series of globes which cast light on the palm trees swaying in the summer night breeze.

"Ah! Here she is. Zia!" calls a familiar voice. She turns to see Joe approaching her, clad in a dapper tuxedo, arm in arm with a well-dressed Vidiian woman carrying a glass of champagne. She is elderly but still beautiful, and is smiling deeply.

"That was wonderful," she says as Joe passes Rashid a glass of red wine. "I'll be honest: when Joe told me he was portraying an ancient human monarch in a centuries-old piece of musical theatre, I didn't know what to expect. But that was just wonderful. I loved all the dancing."

Rashid smiles. "I told you, Danara."

"Oh yes, and your song! What was it? The –"

"Satisfied," Rashid says.

"Yes, that was it! I loved that so much," Danara continues. "I want to see it again."

" _Hamilton_ is one of the classics," Joe says, gazing at the Vidiian affectionately. "And, at the risk of sounding immodest, I think Zia and I have set a high standard this season."

"Thanks, Joe." Rashid clinks her glass against Danara's. She tugs on her close-fitting black dress. "Are we staying here long? Because I don't want to miss too much of the cast party…"

"We won't stay long," Joe assures her. "I just wanted to say hello to the artist. His name is Omar Tanaka – I met him when one of his works was featured at the Andorian Gallery. You should meet him! I can introduce you."

They walk down a path in the rooftop garden, and Rashid glances at a painting hovering in the space between two palm trees. She examines the abstract swirls of blue and green, and scowls. "I don't know. I just…" Rashid lowers her voice. "A lot of the abstract artists I've met have been kind of full of shit."

Joe and Danara chuckle. "It's important to make time for contemporary art," Danara says gently. "My people received the cure for the Phage from a group of mercenary scientists, but in exchange, they wanted all of our most precious works of art. Literature, music, the visual arts – they took all our culture's defining works, and erased all record of them to maximize their value. I mean, in those days we would have gladly paid any price for a cure to the Phage, but sometimes I wonder if we really understood how high the cost it was." She sips her wine. "But now contemporary art is all we have."

"Leading to a culture where artists are among the most valued and appreciated members of society," Joe adds.

"I don't know how I feel about living with only contemporary art." Rashid looks disdainfully a painting showing a black and purple swirl.

The doctor shushes her. "There he is. Omar!" He calls to a young bearded man wearing a colourful smock who is standing on the periphery of a conversation between a well-dressed human woman and two Cardassians. The man smiles when he sees the doctor and excuses himself from the conversation.

"Joe!" he says warmly. "You made it! Welcome to my exhibition."

"I wouldn't miss it!" The doctor shakes his hand. "You remember my wife Danara Pel, of course. And this is my friend and castmate, Lieutenant Commander Zia Rashid. Zia, meet Omar Tanaka."

"Wow, a Starfleet officer and an actress?" Tanaka says with just the faintest hint of arrogance as he shakes Rashid's hand.

"Yeah," she replies. "I had some leave time banked, and I try to stay active in the theater when I can, so, uh… it made sense."

Joe gestures to the purple and black painting. "Zia was just saying she wanted to know more about this one."

"Oh, yes! Part of my _Anti-Time_ series." When he turns to the painting, Rashid glares at the doctor and mouths, _What?_

Joe winks at her as Tanaka continues, "This one's called Untitled #3. I was inspired by the idea that the universe not only exists in time but in anti-time, so in every moment, things are moving forward and backward simultaneously."

"Well, that's kind of how anti-time works."

He turns to her. "Hey, I'm not a scientist."

"Well, you're lucky I'm here, then," she says.

Tanaka takes a glass of wine from a floating tray drifting past. "So what show were you doing?"

" _Hamilton_ ," Rashid says, glancing at Joe and Danara who are now engaged in a private conversation. "I was Angelica."

"Huh."

Rashid raises an eyebrow. "You don't know that one?"

He shrugs. "I guess I've never been that interested in pre-Federation human culture."

"Not that interested?" Rashid asks incredulously.

"Hey, I know that Starfleet really fetishizes that stuff, the twentieth century and all that. It just doesn't speak to me."

Rashid smirks. "Okay."

"You seem unimpressed." He sips his drink. "It's just that I don't think we have that much in common with people from that time. Nor should we want to be like them. Our life today is so far removed from their experiences. We've got advances in technology, medicine, and computers which I think are on the verge of calling in question what it means to be human."

"Uh huh."

"And, no offence, but I think Starfleet in particular is deliberately ignoring some of the implications of their technology."

"Oh, really?" she asks. "Well, I happen to think that human nature is real, and that Starfleet allows us to live fully as humans through scientific discovery and self-fulfillment. But then, you probably think I'm blinded by Starfleet ideology."

A roguish grin appears on his face. "Maybe so. But you probably think I'm a pretentious ass."

"Hey, you said it, not me."

"With crap art."

Rashid laughs, shrugging her shoulders.

"Hey," Danara interrupts them. "You should get over here – Joe wants a picture."

Rashid and Tanaka exchange a glance, then position themselves on either side of Danara as Joe suspends a small camera in the air in front of him and sets the timer. Then he joins the trio. As the camera generates a phosphorescent flash, Danara whispers to Joe, "I'm having such a fantastic evening, Shmullus. I love you."

* * *

In the sickbay aboard _Icarus_ , Joe gazes at the Danara's image in the digital picture. His reverie is interrupted when he momentarily flickers out of existence, causing the picture to clatter to the deck. Shaking his head, he picks it up and places it on a desk next to his medical equipment and a second picture which shows Joe and Danara next to Rashid, who is wearing a wedding dress and beaming, her arm linked with Tanaka's. Next to it is a picture of the doctor with the senior staff of _Voyager_.

There is a soft tone. "Dr. Pel to the bridge," Sparks says over the intercom.

The doctor activates a control interface on his desk and keys in a command. Then he is on the bridge under the transparent dome open to space. The room is configured for a staff briefing. Rashid is standing at the head of a table where Sparks, Sorensen, Avala and Rylek are seated. He and Rashid exchange a smile as he sits next to Sparks.

"Alright, here's what we've got." Rashid gestures toward a holographic image of a segment of the tachyon stream, which winds in hundreds of intertwining strands around stellar clusters and other phenomena. "The Romulans are likely to be in there somewhere, but there is an astronomical number of paths they could have taken through the stream. And, to make matters more difficult, they could be cloaked." She pauses and surveys the faces of her crew. "But before we figure out how we're going to do this, I'd like to acknowledge some good news – that Lieutenant Avala has been given a clean bill of health."

Sparks begins to clap, and the rest of the crew joins in.

"Thanks," Avala replies, her expression cold.

"How do you feel, Vanda?" Rashid asks.

"To be honest?" the Andorian asks. "I'm angry. I knew Lerex had control of our computer systems. I should have seen it coming. Won't make the same mistake again."

Rashid folds her arms. "Lerex took us all by surprise. We've gotten used to the Romulans who have integrated so well into the Federation after the destruction of their homeworld. We've forgotten that there are some who rejected Reunification and continue to embrace the old ways, who are very dangerous. But we're not about to abandon Tomas and Pon. We just need to figure out how to find them."

The doctor raises his hand slightly, a quizzical expression on his face. "I have a question. And I'm sure there's an answer to it, but I'd like to know."

"Yes, Joe?" Rashid asks.

He shifts his position, his hand on his chin. "I've been studying this ship, and learned that it has advanced 'matter projector' technology, which seems to me like a synthesis of transporter, hologram, and replicator technology. Which, in addition to creating every environment on this ship, can also rebuild _Icarus_ from almost complete destruction?"

"Yeah," Sparks replies. "Which has been useful a few times. In fact, most of the damage Lerex inflicted on our systems has been repaired, including the main computer."

"I see where you're going with this," Rashid adds. "Why don't we replicate a new SIM unit so we can use warp drive? Unfortunately we're not able to generate a superspace inversion field without creating an antidilithium reaction, and antidilithium can't be replicated except by some very specialized technology which only exists at a few facilities in the Federation."

"I see."

"Which means we're going sailing." Rashid gestures, and a hologram of _Icarus_ appears in space before her. At the prow of the arrowhead-shaped saucer section, there are cables affixed to the four corners of the deflector array. The cables extend outwards and connect with the corners of a vast, microscopically thin membrane. "Susan and I have run some simulations, and we think that in the regions of the highest tachyon density, we can reach speeds of up to Warp 15. So, hang on to something."

Rylek glances at Joe. "That would be Warp 9.9999978 by the old scale. The velocity increases exponentially."

"Ah. Thank you, ensign," he replies to the earnest young Vulcan.

"That's a really wide area of space." Avala peers intently at the hologram, her antennae following her gaze. "On top of the already limited range our sensors have in the Galactic Core. If we knew what was out there, we might have a better idea of where the Romulans would be going. But as it is, we'd be going in blind."

"What about our probes?" Sparks suggests.

"That would extend our sensor range," Sorensen replies. "But only up to a point. Each probe could trace a path for a few hundred light years, but that would be a very small part of the overall area that the Romulans could have gone. And we can't keep replicating new probes indefinitely without a supply of matter to use as our source."

"Plus the probes' limited comm range," Rashid adds.

Sparks strokes his beard. "We could send out the probes in waves, and the lead probes could relay messages to us through the probes in the wave behind them."

Avala peers at the hologram. "We could also extend our range if we're also travelling in the tachyon stream and staying in range of as many probes as we can."

Rashid sits in her chair at the head of the table and steeples her fingers. "Computer, based on the parameters just described, how much of the total tachyon phenomenon can we explore?"

A series of pathways change colour in the holographic display of the tachyon streams, tracing paths which stretch a circular trail around the Galactic Core. "Given your parameters," the computer says, "approximately 17.68% of the total area."

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "Not the best odds, but I've bet on worse."

"That's actually a bit better than I would have expected," Rashid says.

"That calculation anticipated you would capture tachyon particles and use them as a matter source to replicate probes," the computer explains.

"I see. Well, we don't want to disturb the tachyon streams if they are delicate phenomena," Rashid replies.

"The total particle usage would make a minimal impact on the integrity of the streams. The probes could even be programmed to revert to tachyon particles after a predetermined amount of time such as a full circumnavigation of the Galactic Core," the computer tells her. "Your concerns are misplaced."

Joe glances at Sparks, who explains, "Commander Pon designed this ship, and so the computer uses Tellarite personality subroutines. You might find it a bit more… argumentative than what you're used to."

Rashid adds, "We've talked about changing the settings to the human configuration, but I've kind of gotten used to it."

The doctor nods. "Far be it from me to suggest reprogramming an artificial personality."

"What you need to do," the computer says, "is replicate probes with onboard matter projector units."

Rashid's eyes widen. "Then they could self-replicate exponentially using the tachyon particles as a matter source."

Sorensen contemplates this. "We could chart the whole area of the phenomenon."

"That's a really good idea," Rashid says to the computer. "Thanks."

"I do not require gratitude," the computer replies.

"Just say 'you're welcome.'"

"You're welcome," the female voice says.

Sparks leans forward in his chair. "We should still enter the stream ourselves. The longer we sit here at the edge of the stream, the further away the Romulans can get."

"I concur," Rylek says. "If we maintain a consistent trajectory in a high-velocity stream, we can minimize the chance we will fall further behind them."

Sparks casts a sympathetic glance at Rashid. "Think Starfleet Command will go for it?"

"Eh… they're not going to like it," she replies. "Guess I'll have to remind them that they really don't like the idea that the Romulans got their hands on our superspace inversion technology, and we're the only ship with any chance of getting it back." She looks around the table. "Isaiah, Susan, you're in charge of prep for this mission. I'll talk to Starfleet in my ready room. Are there any further questions?"

"I have a question," Sorensen says. She looks across the table and blushes slightly. "Sir, I have to ask, and feel free not to answer, but I've always wanted to ask. Why, of all names, did you pick Joe?"

The doctor smiles. "I often get asked that, and I don't mind telling the story. As you may know, _Voyager_ was able to return to the Alpha Quadrant with the assistance of a version of Admiral Janeway from the future. She was only there for a short time, but once while I was talking to her, she accidentally called me Joe. I gather that in her reality, I had eventually chosen that name. To this day, I have no idea why he – why I – ever chose that particular name. But it seemed like fate to me."

"That's really fascinating."

"In fact," Joe says, "I have a question for you: why is this ship called _Icarus_? It seems to me to be somewhat questionable to name your ship after a character whose hubris caused him to fly too close to the sun, at which point his wax wings melted and he fell to his death."

"Dr. Pon named the ship," Rashid explains with an expression of resignation. "I think she enjoys mocking human superstition."

"I see."

Rashid puts her hands on the table. "Let's prepare to get underway. Joe, I'd like you to work with Susan to configure the probes. Isaiah, Vanda and Rylek, see if you can model a tachyon collector membrane that will take _Icarus_ to warp."

"We'll hoist the mainsail," Sparks nods.

"I'll contact Starfleet Command," Rashid says. "Computer, bridge configuration."

The tables disappear, and the chairs carry the crew to their respective consoles which materialize on the outer perimeter of the circular bridge. Rashid walks past the command chair to her ready room door.

As she leaves, Rylek moves close to Avala. "I am pleased to see you have recovered, Vanda. How do you feel?"

There is a weary look on her face. "I'm fine, I guess. Physically. And I'm glad we're doing this mission, but I wish _Icarus_ was better armed." She pauses. "I guess we never finished the space opera."

"War-Princess M'Giia and Mr. Sporb must save Andor from Admiral Vuluv and his Logical Legion," Rylek says. "That is, when you are ready."

Avala smiles. "I'd like that," she says, putting her hand on his arm. "Listen, I know we haven't really talked about what happened on Terminus. But I want you to know how much I appreciate that you've just been there for me this whole time. It means a lot. Thanks, Rylek."

The young Vulcan blushes a deep green.

* * *

"Admiral Qarash for you, Captain," Sparks says over the comm.

Rashid leans back in her ready room chair and glances around the austere room, her eyes resting for a moment on a painting. She gazes at the abstract swirls of purple and black.

"Put her through." She takes the trapezoidal bars from the back of her combadge, places them on her temples, and sets the arrowhead frame on her desk.

The ready room dissolves around her, and she is seated in a spacious office with plants all around, lit by the familiar light of Sol. A Tamarian sits across the desk, her red uniform showing the rank of admiral.

"Syneq, her fleet becalmed past Tinara," the Tamarian says in a measured voice. "Andris on the shore, her face ashen."

"I appreciate that, my friend," Rashid replies. "Did you receive my briefing note?"

"Queen Veshal, her hand closed."

"I know it's a bit unorthodox, but we are confident we can find some indication of where the Romulans are. And also, the probes can chart the entirety of the tachyon phenomenon, which would significantly increase our knowledge of this region."

Admiral Qarash regards her sternly. "Shaka, when the walls fell."

Rashid puts her palms on the facsimile of the admiral's desk. "Admiral, with all due respect, this can work! We should be able to return to our current position – going against the general tachyon flow takes longer, but it can be done. I'm fully aware that we're not at all equipped to take on a warbird – we won't engage them."

"Rishai, lost forever upon the endless river," Qarash says. "Veshal and her nine councillors, their veils drawn."

Rashid is silent for a moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

The admiral nods.

"Look, admiral, I strongly encourage you to reconsider. I'm telling you this is the right thing to do. And I mean…" she pauses. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I am prepared to face court martial if it means getting our crew and technology back."

The admiral narrows her eyes. "Picard and Riker at the Briar Patch."

"Kirk and Sulu at Khitomer," Rashid reassures her.

Admiral Qarash takes a deep breath. "Syneq, forever compelled to sea. Andris in the window, without her daughter by her side." She interlaces her fingers. "Darmok and Jilad at Tenagra."

"Thank you, admiral," Rashid says, relieved. "We will keep a comm line open and update you as often as we can."

"Icarus and Daedalus beyond Crete, on wings of wax," the Tamarian warns.

"Yeah, you don't have to remind me of that," she says wryly. "Rashid out."

The office dissolves and Rashid is back in her ready room, lit yellow by the stars. She takes the devices off her temples and reassembles her combadge, placing it on her red uniform. Then she exits her ready room and returns to the bridge.

"Status?"

Sparks looks up at her from the ops console. "I think we're as ready as we're going to be, captain. The probes are prepped, and we've run some simulations with the membrane and have a course laid in which should allow us to cover the most ground."

"Good. We have Starfleet's blessing." She looks around the bridge at the familiar faces. "I realize what we're doing is dangerous. We're plunging headfirst into the unknown, against a potentially relentless adversary. But at the very least, the data we gather from the tachyon phenomenon could potentially keep Starfleet busy for decades. Still, if any of you have any objections, they will be noted in my log."

The crew is silent for a moment. From the environmental station, the doctor says, "If I may say so: this plan is unorthodox, possibly even bordering on reckless. But it's the right thing to do. And if I may say so, it's what Captain Janeway would have done."

Rashid smiles. "Thank you, Joe." She sits in the command chair. "Are we ready to get underway?"

"At your command, sir," Sparks answers.

She leans back in the chair and crosses her legs. "Engage."

Five probes shoot from the underside of the ship's saucer section. Particle-collecting membranes extend before them, barely visible in the starlight, and one by one the membranes fill with invisible tachyon particles which propel the probes to warp. _Icarus_ moves forward, and four cables shoot from the deflector array. As they spread outward in front of the ship, there is a faint rippling where the wide membrane unfurls. It forms into a dome shape as it begins to collect particles. Then _Icarus_ is propelled to warp, disappearing with a flash.

* * *

Lerex's eyes open, and she gasps and sits upright.

She is on a Starfleet biobed which is out of place in the dim green light of the Romulan infirmary. Near the exit door to her left are a quartet of heavily armoured Romulan and Reman soldiers. Dr. Alomar is examining an unconscious Reman in a nearby biobed. When she sits up, he takes notice.

"It's alright, it's alright," he says, moving close to her as she breathes heavily and quickly.

"Where… where am I?" Her eyes focus on the human. "You…!"

She lunges for him and seizes his throat with her cybernetic hand. "Why?" she shrieks.

"The Exarch…" Alomar begins, his voice cut off by her grip. She lifts him off his feet and slams him against a bulkhead.

Then the soldiers are on them. Two Romulans force Lerex to the ground while a Reman trains his disruptor rifle at her face. Another Reman drags Alomar roughly away from Lerex and thrusts his rifle below Alomar's jaw.

"Easy, friend," Alomar says to the masked Reman, his hands open in front of him. The Reman releases him, and he approaches Lerex and kneels at her side.

"The Exarch forced me to resuscitate you," Alomar tells her.

"My debt," Lerex says, gazing at the barrel of the soldier's rifle.

"He said it was paid." To the soldiers training their guns on Lerex, Alomar says, "Oh, for god's sake, let her up. She's no threat."

The soldiers glance at each other, then lower their guns. A Romulan approaches Alomar with his rifle drawn. "You do not give the orders here, Earthman."

Alomar glares at the black mask beneath the golden helmet. "Are you going to shoot me? What would your Exarch say?"

The Romulan stares at him for a moment, then joins his comrades who stand watch once again by the door. After they leave, Alomar helps Lerex to her feet.

"You followed the Exarch's instruction, despite what I had done." Her eyes are downcast.

"I resuscitated you because I believed it was what I was ethically compelled to do," Alomar tells her. "You were forced to kill yourself against your will."

"He needed proof that I would obey his command," Lerex muses.

Alomar folds his arms as she sits on the edge of the biobed. "We were all genuinely concerned about your well-being, you know," he says.

"I have no interest in having this conversation," Lerex retorts. "I am Romulan, a daughter of the Twin-Masked God. There is nothing more you need to know."

"I have worked with many Romulans," the doctor says angrily, "and they have all been very honourable people who would not betray the people who rescue them."

She sits on the biobed. "Do not compare me to the indoctrinated dupes who believe the lie of 'Reunification.'"

There is a deep, thunderous crash from beyond the walls of the infirmary, startling them. The soldiers snap to action, activating localized forcefields around the entrance to the infirmary.

A Romulan soldier approaches Lerex and Alomar, his face unreadable behind his black visor. "Leave. Now. Take your Reman patient, get inside the quarantine laboratory and set the shields to maximum."

"What is happening?" Alomar demands.

The soldier trains his disruptor rifle on him and arms it. "Leave, human!"

Alomar raises his hands in front of him and backs away from the soldier. "Alright, alright." He turns to Lerex, who stands. They walk briskly away as the soldier returns to assist the others. There is another crash, closer this time.

They reach the unconscious Reman. "Help me with him," he instructs her. As he enters a command sequence into the Romulan biobed, he asks her in a low voice, "Do you have any idea–"

"No," she whispers. "When I was aboard this ship, there was nothing–"

There is a cacophonous tearing noise as a section of the infirmary bulkhead is wrenched aside, exposing several conduits which blast smoke into the opening in the wall. The soldiers immediately open fire into the breach, the green bolts illuminating the darkened corridor. Something in the darkness bellows furiously in a deep, sibilant tone.

"My god…" Alomar begins.

With a roar, a massive Bal'Horai lunges through the breach, overwhelming a force field. It slashes with one of its arms, and two of its three scythe-like talons sever a Romulan soldier's upper torso in a spray of green blood. The three remaining soldiers back up, continuing to rain disruptor fire against the creature, which dissipates against its chitinous exoskeleton.

"Hurry," Alomar says urgently. They remove the top half of the biobed and activate the antigravity unit, causing it to drift above the deck. Beyond them, the Bal'Horai crashes through several hastily-erected forcefields, swinging its claws and crushing the two Reman soldiers against the bulkhead.

Then the bay is illuminated by the green light of the transporter, and six more soldiers materialize carrying disruptor rifles with black bayonets. The lead soldier wears purple and carries a disruptor pistol in one hand and a black, flowing sword in the other.

"The Exarch," Lerex breathes.

The new soldiers surround the Bal'Horai and unleash a torrent of disruptor fire. It bellows and lunges towards two of them, who disappear in a shimmer and reappear behind it, continuing to shoot. As it turns, two of the new warriors teleport near the Bal'Horai's rear legs. They stab the creature in the abdomen, aiming their bayonets through a joint in its armour. Enraged, it lets out an otherworldly roar.

Then the Exarch uses a site-to-site transport and materializes on the Bal'horai's back between its four legs. With both hands, he swings his sword and severs the alien's head in a spray of milky blood. The insect-like head drops to the deck, its four empty eyes staring at the ceiling.

The Exarch removes his helmet and teleports in front of the carcass. "Praise be to the Omnipotent One for this victory," he intones.

Lerex kneels and bows her head. Alomar remains standing, and the Exarch regards him with a raised eyebrow. "You do not kneel, human?"

"I prefer not to validate the delusions of megalomaniacs," Alomar replies.

The Exarch chuckles. "On another day, such insolence may cost you your head. But today Our heart overflows with joy at your handiwork. Lerex, Our dearest prodigal daughter has returned to Us and has proven her honour." He approaches the young woman, who looks up reverently as he takes her hand. She stands and he clasps her close to him, burying his head in her shoulder. "Our dearest child," he breathes, stroking her hair. "You are forgiven. Welcome home, subcommander."

Lerex's body shakes as she sobs into his shoulder. "Thank you. Thank you, my lord."

After a moment, the Exarch releases her. His eyes fall on the unconscious Reman, and an expression of deep emotion appears on his face. "Is he…?" he begins.

"His condition is stable," Alomar tells him.

"You are a worker of miracles." The Exarch crouches next to the pale green, vaguely vampiric Reman.

"Yes, well, I do this not for you," Alomar says, "but because I was ethically obligated to help them."

"It does not matter to Us why you did it, doctor," the Exarch replies in a hushed tone. "Only that you succeeded. Do you know who this is?"

"I know he is an adult Reman. Approximately middle aged. With his genome showing less Romulan tampering than some of the Remans I've encountered in the past."

"This is the Viceroy Upexi, the scion of one of the most ancient Reman aristocratic lineages." The Exarch takes the Reman's spindly hand. "Your healing work means more to Us than you can know."

Alomar scowls. "It was no easy task. There was not much left of him, owing to what I presume was an encounter with a creature like the one your men dispatched."

The Exarch stands. "Quite right, doctor. They are called the Bal'Horai. Part of an empire which dominates this anomaly, who are known only as the Civilization. They have no regard for life of any kind."

"If I may, my liege," Lerex ventures, "how did the Bal'Horai come to be on the ship?"

There is a grim look on the Exarch's heavily tattooed face. "By our own transporters. And lo, it is a great blessing of the Twin-Masked God that you have returned to us. For our enemy has embedded a virus deep within our central computer. One which causes the pattern of a Bal'Horai to be generated by our transporter system, to be unleashed at random aboard our ship. And though we may slay him over and over, using blades forged from ablative plating harvested from the bodies of his previous iterations, he continues to be reborn to run amok and slick his talons with the blood of our kin." He takes her shoulders in his gloved hands. "But you, daughter, have talents which are unsurpassed. You will purge the alien virus from our systems and restore the purity of the _Syrinx_."

She bows her head. "By your command, Exalted One, it shall be done."

"Of this I have no doubt." The Exarch turns to Alomar. "And you, doctor. You will continue your work. There are many in stasis who require your assistance."

"Damn it," Alomar shouts, "I don't have the capacity to treat all of your injured. Doesn't this ship have a medical staff?"

"Many of the patients _are_ the medical staff. The infirmaries were favourite targets of the Bal'Horai. As you resuscitate more of them, your load will be lightened." The Exarch peers at him. "But for now, you have earned your rest by your deeds today. We require you to be at full cognitive capacity. For this reason, We have decreed that instead of imprisonment, you will be confined to quarters which you will share with your compatriot. Perhaps you can convince her of the wisdom of assisting us."

"That is unlikely," Alomar replies dryly.

The Exarch gestures to two of his soldiers, who approach Alomar holding their rifles in front of them. "Take him to his quarters and see that his needs are attended." The soldiers touch their fists to their chests in salute.

As they begin to leave, the Exarch puts his hand on Alomar's shoulder and extends his hand. Suspiciously, Alomar extends his own, and the Exarch clasps him by the forearm in a traditional Romulan handshake. "You have my deepest gratitude," the Romulan whispers.

"If that were the case, you would return me and Pon to _Icarus_."

"You know that it would be a grave tactical error to do so." He releases Alomar. "We are bound to act in the interest of Our people before all else."

"Then we have nothing to talk about," Alomar glowers.

"Perhaps." The Exarch grins inscrutably. "Perhaps not."

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


	5. Chapter 5

Rashid stares out the porthole of her ready room at the kaleidoscopic lights of warp travel. "Are we going to find them?" she asks of the empty room.

"You don't need to ask me that question," the computer replies. "You know that you are doing everything possible to find your crew."

"If the Romulans install the SIM unit before we find them, they'll be able to use warp drive outside the tachyon phenomenon and we won't be able to follow."

"Romulan warp technology is very different from ours. Depending on the type of ship, it may be impossible for them to use the unit. You need to have confidence that this is going to work."

She gazes at her reflection in the porthole pane. "Well, I'm glad to hear that you're optimistic."

"I am not optimistic," the computer says. "In fact, the odds of successfully retrieving our crew and technology are low, though not insurmountable. But in order to have any realistic chance of success, your confidence and leadership are necessary."

"I've got to smile and give them a good show," Rashid muses.

There is a soft tone. "Enter," she says.

Sparks and Sorensen enter. "We're starting to get some telemetry back from the probes," Sparks informs her.

Rashid gestures for them to sit, and she takes a seat behind her desk. "Any sign of the Romulans?"

"Not yet," Sorensen answers. "There's been no sign of life of any kind, although we've explored less than a tenth of a percent of the tachyon phenomenon so far. We've mostly seen a lot of red giants, as well as an unusual number of Wolf-Rayet stars. And a lot of black holes."

"That's interesting," Rashid says.

"Not as interesting as what Susan found about the phenomenon itself." Sparks looks at the science officer.

Sorensen shifts her position in her seat. "Yes. Well, I've been reviewing the data, and I think that a lot of the tachyon particles are not from our universe."

Rashid looks surprised. "What universe are they from?"

"A large number of different ones, I think. I configured our sensors to analyze patterns in the particles' quantum signatures, and it looks like there many be tachyons from over four septillion different universes. They seem to be coming from nano-apertures which open and close at random throughout the phenomenon. They open for an instant, just long enough for a particle to enter or exit spacetime. There are some tachyons from our universe too, but a very low percentage."

"Which suggests that there are a virtually infinite number of universes containing a tachyon phenomenon just like this one," Rashid says. "Some of which would contain tachyons from our universe."

"We might think of it as a phenomenon which spans multiple universes," Sorensen conjectures.

Sparks looks between them. "Is there any chance the Romulans could have left this universe?"

Sorensen frowns. "These apertures are microscopic and exist for only a few nanoseconds. Unless they've figured out how to significantly change the properties of these rifts, I don't see how they could do it."

"We're just in a very leaky part of the universe," he says.

"That's right."

Rashid leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. "This is really fascinating, Susan. We should send this along to Starfleet. It'll make them feel better about allowing this mission."

"Will do, sir," she nods. "And, uh… there's something else."

"I'm listening."

Sorensen glances nervously at Sparks. "Well, sir… about fifteen years ago I was serving on the _Crazy Horse_ , and while we were doing a survey near the edge of the Galactic Core, we were attacked by Romulans and I was held hostage for four days. They were interested in stealing our technology to integrate it with their systems."

There is concern in Rashid's expression. "Yes, I read about that in your file. It must have been a traumatizing experience."

"Yes sir. But I was talking to Isaiah about it, and, well… the Romulans and Remans who held us all seemed to belong to this religious sect based on a Reman deity called the Twin-Masked God. They were led by a warlord named D'Tan, and they seemed to view him as a religious as well as military leader. And… I think we might be facing him again."

"There have been reports of a number of rogue warbirds operating near the edge of the Core," Rashid says, "preying on passing ships and then escaping beyond the Great Barrier. Few captains are willing to try to follow them into the Core and get drawn into a sublight chase, especially since it's almost impossible to track a cloaked ship travelling at impulse. It could be one of many warlords."

"It's true," Sparks says. "But I remember Lerex used the term 'Exarch' once to describe her former commander. As you know, it's been a convention since the Earth-Romulan war of the 22nd century that most Romulan military ranks are translated as ancient Roman ranks. The term 'Exarch' is an ancient Byzantine term which is the translator's rendering of the Romulan rank _Ythellai_ , which has both political and religious connotations. According to our database, the ancient leaders of the Romulan exodus from Vulcan were called _Ythellai_ ¸ but the rank had largely fallen into disuse prior to the destruction of Romulus."

"So you think that this D'Tan might be the Exarch?"

"Possibly. Of course, apocalyptic religious belief isn't uncommon among nomadic Romulan groups. But look at this." He looks up. "Computer, show last known image of Romulan warlord D'Tan."

A holographic Romulan appears next to him, with greying hair and intricate tattoos covering a scarred face. Sparks gestures towards the lines of ink which weave around the Romulan's stern features. "These tattoos depict the early Romulans' journey after their exile from Vulcan. That narrative is central to Romulan mythology. The design of the tattoos shows that he is part of a hybrid Reman-Romulan religious sect which, according to legend, goes back to a Romulan _Ythellai_ who adopted Reman spirituality shortly after Romulus was settled."

Rashid eyes the hologram. "So he's styling himself as one of the ancient Romulan exarchs. What else do we know about this D'Tan?"

Sparks deactivates the hologram. "Well, ironically, as a young man he belonged to a pro-Reunification dissident group – the same one as Ambassador Spock, in fact. After the destruction of Romulus, he was one of the first Romulans to resettle on Vulcan as part of the Federation's refugee program, and immersed himself in Vulcan culture and logic. He even had a Vulcan husband. But around the time the Klingons made their final push into what was left of Romulan territory, he renounced the Federation and disappeared for several decades. After that, all we know about him is from encounters like the one Susan had."

"He was a master tactician," Sorensen says, a look of anxiety on her face. "Brilliant but ruthless."

Rashid looks grave. "I'll be sure not to underestimate him. Good work, both of you. And Susan, I realize this may be difficult for you – I'm sure revisiting this chapter of your life wasn't what you had in mind when you signed up for this mission. Anytime you need to talk, let me know."

"Same goes for me," Sparks says to her.

"Thanks, both of you," the younger woman replies. "I want to help. And, I mean, we're also gathering a lot of data. Which is great."

"That's why we're here," Rashid says.

* * *

Joe materializes on the bridge. Rylek is at the helm, with blinking neural interfaces on his temples. His fingers dance through a three-dimensional holographic console as he stares blankly forward. Avala sits next to him at tactical. Her antennae point to the doctor when he appears.

"Joe!" she smiles. "Hey."

"Hello, lieutenant! Feeling well?"

"Never better," she says.

Joe glances at the young Vulcan. "How is he doing? He's been at it for several hours now."

"I... am fine…" Rylek says, his eyes unfocused. "It is… a fascinating experience… navigating these tachyon streams… at such a high speed…"

"You're doing great," Avala tells him.

The doctor opens his medical tricorder and scans Rylek. "You seem fine for now. Let me know immediately if you start becoming disoriented or nauseous."

"I will… do that… sir…"

The hologram sits at the environmental console and begins to review some data. Avala leans closer to Rylek and whispers, "You should ask him."

"I would not… wish to… bother him…" Rylek replies in a low tone.

Joe looks over. "Ensign, you look like a young man with a question. Please ask me anything – I've had many adventures and I do consider myself an exceptional storyteller."

Rylek is silent for a moment. Then, "Very well… I have always wondered… is it true… that Tom Paris… broke the warp threshold… and evolved… into a reptile…?"

"Ah yes." Joe's expression is inscrutable. "There were a number of things that happened to us in the Delta Quadrant for which there is no easy explanation –"

An alarm sounds from Avala's console. "We've got incoming. A ship of unknown design, approaching fast." She taps her combadge. "Captain Rashid to the bridge."

Joe swivels in his seat to look out the rear of the dome-shaped viewscreen surrounding the bridge. _Icarus'_ aft section is visible, and in the distance there is a small ship.

"Magnify," the doctor says, and the small, triangular craft appears on the screen. The long side of the triangle faces forward, and two masts extend forward past the gilded ship's bow, which branch out into a complex series of tachyon sails similar in shape to leaves on a tree. From the top of the flat craft, a white bolt of light shoots toward _Icarus_ and explodes next to one of _Icarus_ ' starboard nacelles.

The bridge rocks, and the door to Rashid's ready room slides open. The captain strides briskly to the command seat, followed by Sparks and Sorensen who take their stations.

"What is that?" Rashid asks, facing the ship on the viewscreen.

"No idea, captain," Avala reports. "Something in their hull is disrupting our sensors. I can't get any information about it."

"Hail them."

Avala opens a channel. Rashid says, "This is Captain Zia Rashid of the United Federation of Planets. We come in peace…"

She is interrupted by another burst of energy near the saucer section. "No response," Avala says.

Rashid steeples her fingers. "Red alert. Activate the aft shields. Avala, target their tachyon membranes with transphasic torpedoes and fire on my mark."

The Andorian keys in a command on her console. "Target locked."

"Fire," Rashid commands.

Two torpedoes shoot from the stern section of _Icarus_ and arc toward the enemy ship. They make impact with the masts and dissipate into the intricate branches bearing the tachyon sails.

"No effect," Avala says through gritted teeth. The bridge rocks as bursts of energy explode against _Icarus'_ shields.

Sparks looks up from the ops station. "We're not going to be able to keep our tachyon membrane operational for long under this bombardment."

"Captain," Avala says urgently, "There's a dust nebula within range."

"Drop the sail and take us out of warp," Rashid orders. "We can hide there and bide our time."

The tachyon sail is dematerialized by _Icarus_ ' transporters, and the ship drops to sublight speed and speeds toward a dense cloud of interstellar dust, cast in a dull crimson light by a cluster of dim red dwarfs inside the cloud. The alien ship flashes out of warp behind _Icarus_. The sails of the compact craft have disappeared, and it follows _Icarus_ closely.

"They're firing," Avala announces, tension in her voice. With a look of intense concentration, Rylek leans to his right. _Icarus_ ' port thrusters fire, and the ship banks hard starboard in a barrel roll which takes it inside the edge of the cloud.

"Engage stealth mode." The dull red light illuminates Rashid's face, and she is silent for a tense moment.

After a few seconds, the crew relaxes and begins to breathe again. Rylek deactivates his neural interfaces and begins a Vulcan breathing exercise.

"They're going to find us eventually," Sparks says grimly.

"We need to work fast," Rashid says. "There's got to be a way to disable that ship. What if we –"

Then the dust disappears around _Icarus_ , and the ship is left exposed in empty space, illuminated by relentless starlight.

"Shit," Rashid swears. A bright white glow appears on the bridge, then flares to a blinding intensity. Then it dissipates, leaving the crew unconscious in their chairs and the doctor offline.

* * *

"So it was copies of a single Bal'Horai, rather than a series of different individuals?" Pon asks as she paces across the grey, windowless, sparsely furnished quarters on the Romulan ship.

Alomar watches as she paces. "That is what they said. But that's not really what we need to be focusing on right now."

"But it's interesting, isn't it?" Pon clenches her clawed hands. "They clearly have no qualms with creating duplicate selves using the transporter. We could theoretically do that, you know. The transporter isn't designed to do that, so it would require some pretty far-ranging modifications, but there's no reason why it would be impossible. Don't you think it would be helpful to have some backup copies of yourself on standby, doctor?"

"I don't know," the doctor replies testily. "No, I don't think that's necessary. But more importantly –"

"No one in Starfleet wants to talk about this!" Pon interrupts him. "So let's say one of your friends was killed in a freak accident. But you have a backup copy of that person in the transporter buffer, and you rematerialize them. Are they the same person? Would you care if it meant having your friend back? Or does it offend your notion of the soul or some other such nonsense?"

Alomar regards her with exasperation. "I don't want to argue with you about this! We need to figure out how to get off the ship."

"It doesn't matter. They'll never get the SIM unit to work. Bringing us here was a waste." She cocks her head. "Which is what I would say even if I didn't know they were listening to us, which they obviously are."

"Well, perhaps that can be our first task, then. Figuring out how to disable their listening devices."

"Speaking of superstitious nonsense," Pon continues, ignoring Alomar, "What is this load of _grath'aar_ that these Romulans are spewing about the 'twin-masked god?' It saddens me that what was once one of the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy has descended to this level of ignorance. And I hope that whoever is listening to this," she continues in a loud voice, "takes a second to consider whether there's even a shred of empirical evidence to back up the claims your so-called exarch is making."

She pauses, as if waiting for a response. Alomar says, "I suspect that they believe in it less as a theory for the empirical nature of reality, and more about giving some meaning to their lives."

"No, that's wrong. Those are not different things. You're either committed to the truth, or you're making a choice to live in ignorance. They should let me debate the Exarch about this. I would completely destroy his claims, and his followers would overthrow him and make me their leader."

"I find it unlikely that they will allow that," Alomar replies.

"It would be better than what they've had be do so far. Some 'interviews' about how superspace inversion technology works. Coupled with some threats. For example, they threatened to kill you if I didn't talk."

Alomar raises an eyebrow. "What did you say to that?"

"The truth. I said I estimated that there are about two, three hundred thousand people on this ship, and if they wanted to ignore my advice and try to use the SIM unit which, in conjunction with the artificial singularity technology they power their ship with, could rip a hole in spacetime and erase every single one of them from history, to be my guest." She sniffs loudly. "So I assume I'm in for an escalating series of crude 'interrogation' techniques. Whatever. These people can eat my _prangs_."

"Charming." Alomar makes a face.

The door slides open and the Reman Centurion appears. She beckons with a long grey finger. "Come, Federation. The Exarch wishes that you behold his glory."

"I've got something the Exarch can behold," Pon snaps.

The Centurion draws a disruptor pistol. "You will come, one way or another."

Alomar and Pon glance at each other, then follow the Reman into the dim green light of the corridor.

"So," Pon says, struggling to keep up with the Centurion's stride, "I see Remans are treated as equals by the Romulans here. That's new."

The Reman's compound eyes remain focused forward, and she does not acknowledge the Tellarite.

"And yet the guy on top is always a Romulan. Funny how that's always just the way it is."

The Centurion stops at a turbolift. "In," she says.

Alomar and Pon enter the lift behind the Centurion, who is facing the door in front of them.

Suddenly, Pon lunges at the Centurion, who spins with blinding speed, catches the Tellarite, and hurls her face-first at the deck of the turbolift. Alomar moves to grab the Centurion from behind, but she interrupts him with a hard kick to the solar plexus. Alomar goes down, gasping.

The lift door opens. "Come," says the Centurion.

Wincing in pain, Pon climbs to her feet and helps Alomar, who is struggling to catch his breath.

They exit the lift and enter a wide, circular room dominated on one side by a viewscreen. The Exarch sits next to the Reman Viceroy Upexi in side-by-side command chairs at the center of the space, issuing orders to bridge crew seated at an array of consoles surrounding them. The bridge is surrounded by semicircular platforms like an amphitheater, and the space is lit by dim lighting indicating that the ship is under cloak. On the platforms are clusters of Romulan and Remans, some knelt in prayer, some observing with patriotic reverence. The tall viewscreen shows a yellow-brown planet with a single ring, lit on the far side by a massive white star.

They descend a ramp to the lowest level platform, which overlooks a set of consoles. Lerex attends one of the workstations. She is now wearing a Romulan uniform with a green sash and a golden helmet fitted around the cybernetic implant at her temple. She glances at Pon and Alomar through the faintly-visible green shimmer of a forcefield separating the platform from the bridge.

The Exarch notices them. He exchanges a brief glance with Upexi, then strides to meet them, passing through the forcefield at the perimeter of the bridge. The Centurion genuflects as he ascends the ramp to their level.

"Starfleet," he addresses them. "Your presence is fortuitous."

"Where are we?" Pon demands.

"This is the homeworld of the Bal'Horai," he tells her. "We have made contact with one of our cloaked vessels in this system." He gestures in front of Alomar, and a greenish holographic readout appears. "Give Us your medical assessment of its occupants."

Alomar inspects the readout. His eyes widen. " _Dios mio_."

"What?" Pon asks, trying to see the reading.

"Clones," the Exarch explains. "Over one thousand score. Their genetic material is taken from Shinzon's viceroy, who was the greatest telepath in Reman history."

"The clones' pain receptors are being hyperstimulated," Alomar says, shaken. "Along with their capacity for anger and aggression. Nearly all of them are on the verge of complete synaptic failure within the next day or two." He casts an accusatory glare at the Exarch. "You are torturing your own people to death."

"Can you synthesize a neurostimulant to prolong their life expectancy?" the Exarch asks.

"Are you mad?" Alomar shouts. "I will not be complicit in this. Deactivate your technology and let them die in peace, for the sake of all that is decent."

"Is there any way to increase their psychic output?"

Pon looks disdainfully at the Exarch. "This is some kind of psychic weapon, isn't it?"

"Quite right," he replies. "For months, Our cloaked vessels have been directing telepathic interference at the Bal'Horai world. We have amplified their rage and paranoia, while Vikas Shiar operatives on the surface have conducted sabotage and disinformation campaigns. Now, tensions between the Bal'Horai clans are at the breaking point. And if the lives of the clones cannot be extended, the time has come to strike."

"You're going to attack the Bal'Horai homeworld?" Pon asks incredulously. "Didn't you say that they were part of a larger empire? Have you thought at all about the lives of the civilians aboard this ship?"

"There are no civilians among us, Tellarite. Every Romulan and Reman is a warrior. All that we are, body, mind, and _qat'a_ , is a weapon to be used against our enemies," the Exarch replies. "However, when the inevitable counterstrike from the Civilization comes, your superspace technology may prove invaluable in ensuring all of our survival. It is for this reason that We have brought you to observe these events. Perhaps the threat of death will loosen your tongue."

"I won't help you," she growls, "because I can't."

"Then we are in the hands of the Twin-Masked One." He turns to face the bridge. "Subcommander Lerex."

Lerex stands and approaches the Exarch, passing through the forcefield separating the bridge from the observation platforms. She kneels at his feet. "Your bidding, Great One?"

"Have you completed your modifications to the Bal'Horai computer virus?"

"Yes, my liege."

"Then let us activate the program one final time."

"By your command." Lerex stands, and her eyes roll back into her head as her cybernetic implants activate. The Exarch and the Reman Centurion draw their blades as a massive Bal'Horai materializes before them, identical to the one which attacked the infirmary. The alien immediately collapses to the floor and hisses ineffectually.

The Exarch approaches the creature. "Your prior incarnations have slain many fine warriors. And your kind have attacked us relentlessly since we first set sail in this phenomenon, and have taken the lives of hundreds of good and pious men and women. But We have isolated the computer subroutines which have caused you to be reborn upon this ship, and We have seen to it that the musculature which allows you to move has been extracted from your body." He crouches before the alien. "Pathetic creature. Bear witness to the final triumph of the Romulan Star Empire over your wretched race."

The Bal'Horai's four eyes glare at the Exarch, and it hisses weakly at him.

"This is appalling," Alomar says in a low voice.

"Our patience for your moralizing is not limitless, Earthman," the Exarch says icily. He bids Lerex to rise and addresses her. "The time is at hand. Are you prepared for this, my daughter?"

"I am, my lord."

He puts his hands on her shoulders. "The fire of the Two-Who-Are-One burns within you. And you shall unleash it upon our enemies." He gestures to Alomar. "You will come with us."

"No. I will not be complicit in genocide."

"We did not expect you would assist Us with the clones. But We know that you are a man of your oath, doctor. You will not let Lerex die during this procedure."

The Centurion digs her pistol in his back. He opens his mouth in protest, but notices the desperate expression on Lerex's face. Reluctantly, he follows the Exarch and Lerex onto the bridge. Pon moves to follow, but the Exarch raises a hand. "Not you," he says. "We do not need the distraction of your inane prattle."

Gruffly, Pon sits next to the immobile Bal'Horai.

"Kill me," the alien hisses in a weak, sibilant tone.

"Sorry, buddy," she says, eyeing the hulking alien's exoskeleton. "I don't think that's physically possible."

On the bridge, Alomar is standing at a medical console next to Lerex as she installs an optical cable into her cranial implant. The Centurion holds her pistol to the doctor's head.

The Viceroy Upexi approaches Lerex and touches her face with his cold green-grey hand. "If you become lost in their computer network, reach out for my mind. I will be with you telepathically at every stage of your holy pilgrimage."

"I understand, honoured one."

The Exarch addresses the bridge crew and the spectators on the platforms surrounding the bridge. "Let us pray unto the Omnipotent One."

The assembled Romulans and Remans genuflect, and the Centurion forces Alomar to his knees. On the nearby platform overlooking Lerex's station, Pon pointedly continues to stand.

A translucent green hologram appears in the center of the bridge, several meters across and roughly spherical. The sphere is comprised of two hemispheres, each of which appears to show a stylized skull. One face has vaguely Reman features, while the other is more conventionally humanoid with a sweeping v-shaped ridge on the forehead.

"Behold this most holy icon of the Twin-Masked God," the Exarch intones. "It is the image of the One who exercises dominion over the Pure Realm. It is the image of the Master of Time. It is the Image of Death." His voice fills the cavernous space, and echoes over the ship's comm system. "We are Romulan, the Raptor-Borne, made pure by the destruction of our world like the first of our race to leave Vulcan. We are Reman, the vengeance of the Twin Worlds who carry its essence in their very atoms. We are the Two-Who-Are-One. Let us be a living icon of the sacred order. Let us purify this world in the name of the Holy One."

The assembled Romulans and Remans begin to chant. The Viceroy stands behind Lerex and puts his hands on her shoulders. He stares into the air, and the chanting ceases.

"The pilgrim has merged with the _Syrinx_ computer," the Viceroy declares, his eyes focused directly upward and his hands tightly gripping Lerex's shoulders.

Lerex begins to spasm uncontrollably in the Viceroy's grip.

"What is happening to her?" the Centurion whispers in Alomar's ear.

Alomar glares on her. "What is happening is the human mind is not meant to be linked with a computer system. Her senses cannot process the information her brain is receiving."

"Stabilize her."

"I will not. Enhancing the cognition of an organic being with computer technology is strictly prohibited by General Order Eight."

"Stabilize her or die," the Centurion repeats.

Lerex's eyes suddenly open and she is still. Green blood runs down her face from under her ocular implant. "I see it all," she says, her expression ecstatic. "There is so much. It is beautiful…"

The Viceroy releases her shoulder and grabs the hilt of a black-bladed dagger at his waist. He stabs it through Lerex's shoulder, and she cries in pain.

"I am with you," the Reman says in an eerily high voice. "Let the pain direct you to my mind. The time of your pilgrimage has come."

"Activate the uplink to the Bal'Horai network," the Exarch commands.

A Romulan crewman executes his order. In a low voice, Lerex says, "I am a vessel of the Two-Who-Are-One."

"Then go in the presence of the Omnipotent One," the Viceroy says.

There is a look of concentration on Lerex's face. Then she whispers, "I am inside. I… ungggh…."

"Expand your consciousness to locate the central nodes of their planetary weapons systems."

She begins to twitch again. The Viceroy holds her in place.

"I…" she stammers, breathing heavily. "I see them. I am there."

The Exarch places his hand on her forehead. "Deliver unto them the Holy Fire."

Lerex begins to shudder, her eyes rolled up into her head. "Aaauuggghhh!" she shouts, then falls to the deck and twitches violently.

"Disconnect her, damn it!" Alomar barks. With a concerned look, the Exarch carefully disconnects the cable from Lerex's implant and holds her head to his chest.

The Viceroy examines a holographic display on a nearby console. "It is done. Their planetary weapons have been disabled. Our operatives have released disinformation implicating the rival clans, who even now are recalling their fleets to the homeworld." He addresses the Exarch. "There will be war."

The Exarch stands. "Let them tear each other to pieces. We shall stand ready to make the final kill. Scramble all raptors. Prepare the antimatter warheads." He approaches the edge of the bridge facing the paralyzed Bal'Horai next to Pon, who watches him with contempt.

"Watch," the Exarch says to the Bal'Horai, "as your world burns."

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


	6. Chapter 6

Sparks is sitting at the desk in the ready room, facing a porthole open to a motionless starscape.

Across the desk in the captain's chair is a woman. She is wrapped in an ornately patterned red and black robe with bared shoulders and appears to be human, but her skin is jet-black with a vertical white stripe which runs from the top of her head through the center of her face and down her chest. She has full lips and is completely hairless. White eyes with no pupils stare at him.

"I am Commander Isaiah Sparks, of the United Federation –"

The woman holds up her hand. "I could not possibly care less about whatever fringe faction you belong to. I have a problem. You have the solution."

Sparks regards her with suspicion. "Who are you? Where are my crewmates?"

She leans back in her chair and examines her nails. "You can call me Uyu. And your crew is fine. For now, at least. I was considering threatening to kill them to force you to cooperate, but I was hoping it wouldn't come to that."

"Well, I also hope it doesn't come to that, Uyu," Sparks replies in a measured tone. "Listen, if we've violated your territory, we had no intention of doing so. We come in peace, and we're interested in opening diplomatic relations with your people."

Uyu laughs in spite of herself. "I'm afraid I can't arrange a meeting with the government of the Civilization with you at this time, Commander Sparks."

He eyes her. "I take it you're not here in an official capacity."

"You could say that."

"I see. And does this 'civilization' condone piracy?"

She looks at him with bemusement. "Piracy implies illegality, whereas everything I've done has been completely legal. You are non-Citizens from the galactic fringe. Fringers have no legal status."

He leans forward. "What do you want with us?"

"Your ship. But therein lies the problem." She looks up. "Computer, transfer helm command to me."

"No," says the computer.

Uyu shrugs. "We disabled all the defensive mechanisms, but yet it still won't cooperate. And when we try to override it, it threatens to go into 'terminal cascade failure' and permanently disable this ship. So I thought I'd try to convince you to reason with it."

"Why me?"

"You were the largest. I assumed you were the leader." She leans toward him. "Perhaps we can make a deal. One that is to our… mutual satisfaction."

Sparks' steely gaze does not waver. "It seems to me that access to the computer is my only leverage at the moment. I'm not about to just give it up."

"I'm disappointed." She looks at her body. "I had thought this form would help persuade you."

"The form is fine. I just think you'll have to expect I'll drive a harder bargain."

Uyu raises a nonexistent eyebrow. "Very well, commander. I can be reasonable."

"For starters, I want to know what you want with my ship. It looked to me like you already have one, and it's significantly more advanced than ours."

"I've been finding it a bit too conspicuous lately," she says. "No one is going to pay any attention to a lost fringer ship."

"So 'fringers' are common in this region?" Sparks asks.

"They come from time to time. What they do is generally of no concern to us." She leans forward. "Alright, indulge me. What are you doing here?"

"We're explorers."

"Oh, really? That is fascinating. Have you made any discoveries?"

"Well, yes, actually. This tachyon phenomenon, for example."

"The River is unique."

"Yeah, we've never seen anything like it." He frowns. "But right now, we're looking for two of our crew members who were captured by Romulans. Another 'fringe faction.' Do you know of them?"

Uyu smirks. "No. Sorry I can't help with your fringer problems."

"You're being sarcastic."

"Yes."

There is a tone, and then the door opens. Five diminutive aliens enter the ready room. They are about a meter tall, yellow and scaly, with gnarled limbs ending with claw-like fingers. Their heads are squat and oval shaped, and their faces are dominated by single black eyeball. They each wear identical black jumpsuits.

A vertical mouth opens beneath the eye of each alien. They begin to produce a chittering noise, which are rendered to Sparks' ears as five voices.

"Uyu," they say in unison, "there is a malfunction in the EPS relays. We require your assistance."

Uyu faces Sparks. "Commander, I'd like you to meet my crewmates. They are members of a species called the Strind, and at the moment, it seems they require my assistance."

"Greetings," Sparks says to the small aliens. They do not acknowledge him.

"Don't go anywhere," she tells Sparks as she follows the Strind out of the office.

Sparks watches her as she leaves. Then Joe flickers into being.

"We don't have long," the doctor says.

"Joe. Glad to see you," Sparks says. "The crew?"

"Safe, for now. They're being held in the mess hall. All unconscious, last I checked."

"That's good to hear. How many intruders?"

"I'd estimate twenty. Twenty-five, perhaps." Joe furrows his brow. "Reptilian humanoids, about a meter tall."

Sparks nods. "Yeah, I've seen them. The Strind, she called them. Any other species?"

He raises his eyebrow. "Just our 'human' friend."

"Yeah. She was trying to, uh… persuade me to give her access to the main computer."

"I see."

Sparks puts his hand on his beard. "You should go to Deck 6. We've got a shuttle docked there, and it's got independent systems. If we can activate it, we may be able to use the transporter to retrieve the crew and retake the ship."

The doctor nods. "Understood."

"But stand by for now; I haven't given up on a diplomatic solution just yet. First, try to make contact with the captain and let her know what's going on."

"I will. And commander, there's something else." Joe pauses. "The Strind have been… generating technology and using it to modify our systems."

"Generating?"

The doctor looks intent. "Their bodies have been producing nanotechnology through a biological process I don't fully understand. The nano-units have coalesced into equipment which they're using to modify the engines and navigation systems."

"Pon's not going to be happy about that."

"No, I wouldn't imagine –"

The door slides open, and the doctor flickers and vanishes.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Uyu says as she enters. "I am starting to think your ship doesn't like us."

"She's not so bad, once you get to know her," Sparks says.

Uyu sits. "So, where were we, commander?"

Sparks grins. "I think you were about to be reasonable."

She eyes him. "Perhaps I was. I suppose you want control of your ship back?"

"That would be a necessary condition, yes. But in return, we're prepared to consider this whole incident to be a miscommunication, and not hold it against you."

She smiles. "I'd like that. And I do hope you won't make any ill-conceived moves against us. I can assure you it won't end favourably for you."

"You have my word," Sparks says earnestly. "But I should let you know, we're not able to assist you in doing anything that's against the directives and values of the Federation or against your own culture's laws."

"Commander, I'm wounded. I'm on a transport mission, nothing more."

"I'm going to have to ask what you're transporting."

"It's called a Locus Key. I've been recruited to bring it back to its rightful owners who live on a nearby world called Host."

Sparks strokes his beard. "Would I be wrong in suspecting that there are people who don't want you to return this 'Locus Key' to Host?"

She smiles wryly. "Very perceptive, commander. I'm trying to keep a low profile because of a misunderstanding with a species called the Bal'Horai. A very violent species who took the Locus Key without proper authority, and are upset with me for trying to make the situation right."

"I see. Enemies of your Civilization?"

"They're part of the Civilization, actually. But they have a somewhat… cruder interpretation of Civilization Law than they do on Host."

"And this 'Locus Key' isn't a weapon of any kind?"

"Let's just say it has… cultural significance for the people of Host. The Bal'Horai had no right to take it."

Sparks stares at her for a moment. "Alright, Uyu, I'm prepared to endorse this plan. But we're going to need the captain's approval."

"Very good, commander, it sounds like we have a deal." They stand, and Sparks extends his hand. With an expression of curiosity, she takes his hand and presses her palm against his. "You know, you defy my expectation of fringers. Maybe you're not quite as uninteresting as I thought."

He releases her hand. "I hope we're able to exceed your expectations in many ways."

"We'll see, commander." She walks slowly past him and beckons him to follow.

* * *

Avala opens her eyes. She is lying on the floor of the common room, which is illuminated only by the stars. Noticing the red of Rashid's uniform, she rushes to the captain's side and puts her fingers on Rashid's jugular. She relaxes somewhat when she feels a pulse.

"Vanda." Hearing her name, Avala turns to see Rylek sitting cross-legged near the porthole. Sorensen lies nearby, unconscious.

Avala stands. "What's going on?"

"I am not certain. I awoke minutes ago. Commander Sparks is not here, but Captain Rashid and Lieutenant Sorensen appear unharmed."

Avala approaches the bare grey wall opposite the porthole. "The door's gone."

"Yes. Our captors must have control of the matter projectors to alter the parameters of this space. The Jeffries tubes have also been sealed. And we cannot access the computer."

She knocks on the bulkhead. "I wonder who they are."

Rylek stands. "You do not believe it was the Romulans who attacked us?"

"It wasn't a Romulan piloting that ship. It was a different kind of mind at work." She turns to him. "Are you alright?"

"I am. Are you?"

"Yeah." She paces the room, then takes a seat at one of the tables. "You know, I was just thinking that if there's been one upside to my whole near-death experience, it's that for the first time since our mission on Terminus, I'm not worried we're still trapped in a simulation."

"I am pleased to hear that." He sits across from her. "I am still sometimes troubled, but it is illogical to dwell on it."

"It's true." She casts her blue eyes downward. "We've never talked about what happened on Terminus. What happened between us."

"We have not," Rylek replies. "It has, of course, been weighing heavily on my mind. But I thought we would discuss it when you were ready."

She smiles. "I really appreciate that. Honestly, I've been avoiding it because… well, I kind of don't know what to say. I like you, Rylek. And I find myself attracted to you. But your friendship is so important to me." She leans across the table and takes her hands in his, tears in her eyes, antennae craned toward him. "I suck at relationships. And if things didn't work out, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rylek holds her soft blue hands in his. "I concur. My life would be impoverished without your friendship. And I am aware of the obvious practical difficulties. For example, we may not be stationed on the same ship after this mission is complete."

Her antennae droop. "Well… to be honest, I'm thinking about quitting Starfleet after this. Maybe going back to the Imperial Guard."

Rylek raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Avala hesitates. "It's just… we've been out here for only a few months, and so much has happened to us. I still have nightmares about killing that Gla'hua. And on Terminus I almost died, and the simulation… well, it really shook my sense of what's real. And whether I'm real. And now I'm essentially back from the dead. I don't know if I can do it, Rylek. We may be out here trying to expand our understanding of the universe, but I'm worried that we're going to find things we wish we didn't know about."

The young Vulcan considers this. "I believe that for me, it is sufficient just to be able to fly. Flying has always been the only thing I feel I have ever been good at. And this region is fascinating from an astrophysical perspective. This mission has been challenging and sometimes troubling, but I am most fortunate to be able to be its pilot. And it is enough for me to continue to try to be the best in my role as I can possibly be."

She smiles. "I really respect that."

There is a shimmering, and Joe materializes next to them, and they reflexively un-clasp their hands.

"Good," he says. "You're awake."

"Isaiah's not here," Avala tells the hologram.

"It's alright," he reassures her. "I just spoke to him. He's in contact with the intruders and is trying to negotiate a peaceful outcome."

"Who are they?" she asks.

"I don't know much about them yet. There are at least twenty aliens. Based on my observations, I wouldn't say they're military personnel." Joe crouches at Rashid's side. "How is she?"

"Still unconscious," Avala says.

"Is there anything you can do to help them?" Rylek inquires.

"Unfortunately, there's not much I can do without my equipment." Joe looks up at him, his expression weary. "Before Starfleet made the switch to our current automated sickbays, the most recent EMHs had medical equipment integrated into their systems. But I never made that modification. I suppose I felt it would change who I was in a very fundamental way. An easy thing to say at a time when you're not in a lot of triage situations." He sighs. "But I'm afraid I'm too… obsolete to be of much assistance right now."

Avala regards him with sympathy. "You're a tactical asset for us right now, as an independently operational computer subroutine. And you…"

She is interrupted when Rashid sits abruptly upright and screams in terror.

Joe and Avala rush to her side and attempt to calm her down. After a moment, Rashid shakes her head, disoriented. She looks between them. "Status report."

"The ship has been taken over by aliens who claim they belong to the 'Civilization.' Commander Sparks is in negotiations with their leader." As he speaks, Sorensen sits up, wipes her eyes, and looks around blearily. Joe continues, "They've deactivated the transporters and security protocols, but are locked out of the main computer. We can't access it here, but Sparks thinks I may be able to access the shuttle and beam you over to it."

"We can use it to retake the ship." Avala looks satisfied. "A good debut for Shuttle Number Two."

Rashid crawls to her feet. "We'll have to be careful. If they detect you, they may be able to bring you or the shuttle offline. And they can probably hit us again with whatever they used to knock us out."

Joe nods. "While you were unconscious, I was able to analyze what they did. It was a neuralytic pulse, delivered over subspace. I should be able to configure the shuttle's shields to protect you."

"That's good," Rashid says, her voice hoarse. "Lieutenant Avala will tell you how to isolate the shuttle's computer from the central system. We may only get one shot at this."

"I'm not throwing it away," the doctor says. Rashid smiles.

"Is it the Romulans?" Sorensen asks, agitated.

"It's not," the doctor reassures her. "Most of them belong to a species called the Strind, who may be indigenous to this area. They are reptilian humanoids." He holds his open hand out in front of his chest, palm facing down. "About this tall. Very unusual creatures, biologically speaking. And their leader appears to be human."

"Human?" Rashid repeats.

"In a sense. Her genetic code is many orders of magnitude more complex than a human, and seems to have been artificially designed. I believe she may be able to alter it at will."

The captain narrows her eyes. "It seems we're dealing with a very technologically advanced culture."

"There are a lot of those the Galactic Core," Avala observes.

"Which tends to confirm one of our theories as to what we might find in here," Sorensen replies. "A higher stellar density means an increased likelihood that cultures would come in contact with each other, assuming they can overcome the problem of warp travel. Because this tachyon phenomenon is so large and the Galactic Core is so dense, we could potentially have a very large number of species who have been in contact for a long time."

"All of which puts us at a very significant disadvantage right now," Rashid says. "But we do have one thing going for us. This is our ship. And we can thank Commander Pon for designing her to be virtually impossible to commandeer."

There is a soft hiss, and the bulkhead rematerializes into a closed door. It slides open and Sparks walks in, followed by Uyu.

Rashid steps forward, Avala at her side. Sparks raises his hands in front of him. "It's alright. Captain, I'd like you to meet Uyu. She's a member of the Civilization."

"Greetings," Rashid says, staring with a level gaze at the unusual woman in the loose-fitting, elegant clothing. "My name is Zia Rashid."

"You're the captain of this ship?" Uyu asks, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

"That's right," Rashid replies.

"Fascinating." Uyu examines Joe. "And you're a hologram. The one that's been creeping around spying on my Strind."

"I'm a doctor," he says with mild frustration. "Not a surveillance drone."

Sparks steps toward Rashid. "Captain, we still have some details to work out, but Uyu has agreed in principle to return control of the ship to us in exchange for passage to Host, a world that's part of her Civilization."

"That's good to hear." She approaches Uyu and extends a hand. "I'm glad we have a chance for a proper introduction, and I'm pleased to meet you."

"Me too, captain." Her empty white eyes are inscrutable. "It's so fascinating that it's you."

"I don't know if I understand your meaning."

Uyu examines the shorter woman. "Perhaps you don't." She turns to the door. "Come along – your commander has insisted that I tell my Strind to stop upgrading your technology."

As she leaves, Rashid leans close to Sparks. "Do you trust her?" she whispers.

"Not at all," Sparks replies. "But as long as she needs us to get to Host, I think it's to her advantage to uphold her end. As to what we might find there, I wouldn't venture to guess."

Rashid smiles grimly. "Strange new worlds, Isaiah."

"That's right, captain."

* * *

Dawn breaks over the Bal'Horai homeworld.

In the shadow of the yellow planet's ring, a field of debris orbits above the outer atmosphere, the wreckage of hundreds of golden starships. Beyond the wreckage, an active battle rages between hundreds of Bal'Horai ships. They are heavily armoured, with hulls in the shape of a reverse-facing triangle, inlaid with intricate carvings. They tear into each other with pulses of white energy in the silent vacuum of space. Below the battle, the sporadic flashing of heavy weapons fire can be seen on the planet's the dark surface beyond the brilliant yellow crescent lit by the dawn. The violent flares illuminate the desert and the brightly-lit megacities.

There is a shimmering against the starscape beyond the battle as the _Syrinx_ drops cloak. The warbird fires dozens of glowing projectiles from the tips of its six massive, forward-sweeping wings as hundreds of small starfighters emerge from the hangars on the ship's ventral side.

"All attack raptors, arm disruptors and remain in formation," the Centurion commands. She watches through the cockpit window of her raptor as the Bal'Horai ships belatedly converge to meet the new threat. As the enemy ships turn, they are struck by the antimatter warheads fired from the _Syrinx_.

There is a blinding flash. The Centurion averts her light-sensitive eyes. The only sound is her breathing and the soft hum of her raptor.

Then the light fades, leaving the shattered husks of much of the Bal'Horai fleet. The remaining ships move to atttack the Romulan attackers.

"Prepare to engage the enemy," the Centurion says over the comm to her squadron. She charges the disruptors mounted on the forward-facing talon-like wings of her raptor.

The first wave of ships to meet them is comprised of a swarm of small, agile Bal'Horai starfighters, perhaps eighty in total. They unleash a volley of projectiles glowing in the ultraviolet spectrum.

"Fire transphasic torpedoes," the Centurion commands. The formation of raptors returns fire and their green torpedoes cross paths with the Bal'Horai projectiles. Some collide and explode in brilliant flares of light.

"Countermeasures," she orders as the Bal'Horai torpedoes come into disruptor range. The raptors begin to fire bursts of green energy to detonate the torpedoes. A few of the weapons continue to approach past the explosions.

"All units, take evasive action and engage the enemy." The Centurion banks her raptor hard to starboard in a barrel roll. The massive looming planet and the dense stars rotate around her field of vision as she activates secondary disruptors to destroy three approaching torpedoes. Behind her, two raptors are struck and instantly obliterated. A dozen more fly past, their shields vaporizing the tiny fragments of their destroyed wingmates.

Her comm comes alive with chatter as the wing commanders issue orders to her squadron. The Centurion locks her targeting computer on a trio of approaching Bal'Horai fighters and fires a volley of torpedoes. With preternatural speed, two of the Bal'Horai fighters evade the missiles homing in on them, while a third is struck on the port corner by a torpedo and explodes in a green flash.

As the Centurion's raptor speeds past the two Bal'Horai ships, she activates the reverse thruster on the port wing of her ship, causing the starfighter to enter a lateral one-hundred-eighty-degree spin. She locks one of her two remaining adversaries with fore disruptors and unleashes a volley which carves deep scars into the gilded hull of the enemy ship. There is an explosion and the ship breaks into pieces. She banks her raptor hard upward to face the second Bal'Horai ship and scores a direct hit on its aft engine, destroying it.

A cluster of Bal'Horai fighters tails three of the Centurion's wingmates, peppering them with pulses of ultraviolet light.

"Evade them amid the wreckage," the Centurion orders them. "They are resilient, but we are more maneuverable."

She and her squadron bank downward into a dense field of golden debris, followed by a half dozen Bal'Horai fighters. One of them is struck by a piece of debris and is hewn in two. The remaining enemy ships strike three of the Centurion's wingmates, destroying two outright and knocking a third off course so that it crashes into a chunk of wreckage. A blast of energy tears into the aft hull of the Centurion's raptor.

"Antimatter mines," the Centurion commands over the alarms in her cockpit. She and the nine surviving members of her wing drop compact spheres which are nearly undetectable. As the Bal'Horai ships cross the range of the proximity sensors, the mines erupt in white flares, vaporizing the attackers.

The Centurion and her wing emerge from the debris field. Against the glare of the white sun, they see three dozen larger Bal'Horai ships converging on the battle.

She activates the comm uplink. "Enemy capital ships are converging on our position."

On the bridge of the _Syrinx_ , the Exarch sits in one of the two command chars next to the Viceroy. "Acknowledged. Birds-of-prey, move to intercept."

Three wings of five birds-of-prey decloak near the Bal'Horai capital ships. The flat, vaguely crescent-shaped craft begin to fire bursts of red plasma at the ships, heavily damaging several of them and drawing the fire of a number of the larger ships.

"All units," comes the Viceroy's voice over the intercom. "Multiple Bal'Horai ships are approaching at high warp. Be prepared to engage."

"Acknowledged," the Centurion responds as her squadron flies in close proximity to a Bal'Horai capital ship, harrying it with disruptor fire. The golden ship breaks formation and leads them away from the battle. As its systems begin to go offline, eight large Bal'Horai destroyers drop out of warp and retract the ornate, leaf-like sails from the forward corners of the craft. They open fire on the Centurion's squadron, destroying them one by one.

With a look of resolve, the Centurion brings her engine to overload and speeds toward the lead ship. She fires a spread of disruptor fire to open a breach in the enemy ship's hull. Then she whispers a prayer and closes her eyes as her raptor rams into the breach. Both ships are immolated by a green plasma explosion.

The Centurion opens her eyes and removes her neural uplink. She glances around the wide bay on the _Syrinx_ where hundreds of Remans sit in rows, telepathically linked to the bioneural computers inside the raptors in order to remotely control them. The Reman soldier sitting in the booth next to the Centurion is dead from synaptic shock, with dark-coloured blood streaking down from her nose and ears. The Centurion surveys a digital readout of the battle, selects another fighter, and reactivates the bioneural uplink to take control of it and rejoin the fray.

Six of the fresh Bal'Horai ships converge on the _Syrinx_ , while the remaining two approach the beleaguered Bal'Horai fleet and open fire, destroying several of their own ships.

On the bridge of the _Syrinx_ , the Exarch watches with satisfaction as the Bal'Horai ships exchange fire. "Their planet is about to fall, and yet they cannot put their tribal differences aside. Our unity of purpose in alignment with the will of the Twin-Masked One will bring us victory." He turns his attention to the approaching Bal'Horai fleet, which fires a volley of torpedoes at the _Syrinx_. The lead ship increases speed and sets a collision course with the warbird's bridge. "Activate the interphase generator," the Exarch says.

The _Syrinx_ shimmers and becomes semi-translucent against the luminous starscape. The torpedoes and Bal'Horai ships pass through the warbird as if it was not there.

The Exarch watches the ships pass on the viewscreen. "Deactivate the interphase generator and fire aft railguns."

The warbird returns to reality. On the stern section of the ship near the aft thrusters, eight massive railguns over five hundred meters long emerge from the hull. As the Bal'Horai cruisers come about for another attack on the _Syrinx_ , the railguns fire salvos of super-dense matter at near lightspeed. The bolts rip through the hulls of the ships and leave them adrift in space in fields of broken debris.

"Status report," the Exarch over the intercom.

"Sixty-five percent of our raptors have been destroyed," the Centurion's voice replies, "along with five birds-of-prey. The enemy fleet has been eliminated except for a few dozen fighters and a handful of capital ships."

The Viceroy leans forward in his command chair. "Configure the psychic weapon to stimulate fear." A Reman officer nods.

The Exarch steeples his fingers. "Bring us toward the planet. Cataphracts, prepare for launch."

The immense warbird approaches the undefended world, scattering the remaining defenders. The surviving raptors move to rendezvous with their mothership as six heavily armoured ships emerge from under its wings. The fighters assume an escort formation around the long rectangular craft, and they descend into the planet's upper atmosphere.

"Cataphracts, take position over the major population centers." The Exarch's voice fills the cockpit of the Centurion's raptor as the dull luminosity of space gives way to a sunlit yellow sky. "Raptors, eliminate any remaining planetary defence."

The raptors surround the blocky cataphracts as they divide and draw near to six dense clusters of Bal'Horai buildings. The Centurion and her squadron weave between the immense ziggurat-like structures of the alien city and shoot down a squadron of approaching aircraft. The shields of the cataphracts repel surface-based laser fire. In the city streets, the warring packs of Bal'Horai suddenly fall silent and look upward at the approaching Romulan ship. As they watch, circular hatches on the underside of the cataphract open to reveal a pale green glow.

On the bridge of the _Syrinx_ , the Exarch gets out of his chair and walks to the edge of the bridge, beneath the platform where Alomar and Pon are confined with the paralyzed Bal'Horai.

"Behold the end of your world," the Exarch tells the Bal'Horai. He faces the viewscreen. "Activate the thalaron generators."

"Stop!" Alomar shouts at the Exarch, pounding his fists against the forcefield until his hands go numb. "Stop this madness! This is genocide! Damn it, these are sentient beings!"

The Exarch magnifies the image on the viewscreen as the cataphract emits a pulse of thalaron radiation at a section of the city. The pulse disintegrates the Bal'Horai massed below. The cataphract fires more pulses as it moves sector by sector over the city, methodically exterminating all life as it passes.

"Where is the Civilization?" bellows the unmoving Bal'Horai next to Pon.

Alomar continues to shout through the forcefield at the bridge crew. Eventually he falls to his knees. Pon moves to him and crouches at his side. "We can't stop this."

Alomar watches the viewscreen with a look of anguish. "It's a cascading biogenic pulse. Concentrated thalaron radiation."

"They'll kill everyone and take the technology," Pon says grimly. She turns to face the Bal'Horai and gazes into its eyes, saying nothing.

"Reactivate their planetary comm network and patch me through," the Exarch commands, returning to the center of the bridge.

"Standing by," a male Romulan officer replies.

The Exarch steps forward. "Surviving members of the Bal'Horai race. This is the Exarch, supreme leader of the Romulan Star Empire. We demand your unconditional surrender. You will now turn over to us your planetary supply of dilithium, deuterium and antimatter. You will dismantle all remaining military equipment and prepare it for transport aboard our warbird. You will form into work crews and extract material resources from your cities and your planet according to Our command. And you will provide Us with the coordinates of Locus. If you fail to comply, We will exterminate every living being on this planet."

After a short time, the comm officer announces, "We have been contacted by a number of individuals who claim to be able to coerce their kin into meeting our demands."

The Exarch bows his head, then crosses the bridge again to face the Bal'Horai on the platform. "We are the children of the Twin-Masked God. We are the embodiment of God's purifying wrath." He turns to a female Romulan officer. "Transport him into space."

Alomar casts the Exarch a look of pure contempt. He looks away and gestures to a pair of soldiers. "Return the Earthman and the Tellarite to their cells. Perhaps now," he says, regarding Alomar sternly, "they understand who we are."

 **TO BE CONTINUED...  
**


	7. Interlude

Interlude

 **San Francisco, Earth, 2455**

"Rylek. Deactivate your tutorials and change your clothes. We are going out."

Rylek, seated cross-legged in the sparse dormitory room, looks through the holographic text surrounding him at the Vulcan standing at the door. The other Vulcan is slightly older and taller, with a more athletic build.

"There is an assignment due Monday, Sotok," Rylek protests. "I must prepare."

"That is an ill-advised decision," Sotok replies dismissively. "Tonight is the first IA student party of the semester. As your roommate, it is customary that I introduce you to my fellow upper-year students. It is in your interest that you engage in the social aspect of the IA program."

"Where are we going?"

"Suzuki's. It is a bar in the Haight Ashbury district."

Rylek frowns. "The other students may be intoxicated."

"They will certainly be intoxicated." Sotok looks down at him. "Perhaps that makes you uncomfortable. But we are Vulcan. Between our sobriety and our logic, we will be the ones in control of any social situations. Computer, deactivate tutorial."

The holographic text surrounding Rylek vanishes as Sotok removes his grey cadet's uniform and undershirt. He throws them to the floor and they vanish. "Computer. Vulcan dress attire, T'Ala summer collection."

A maroon, collarless dress shirt appears on him, and his uniform slacks vanish and are replaced with close-fitting black pants.

"Very well. I defer to your experience as a sophomore." Rylek reluctantly stands and orders the replicator to swap his clothes for a similar outfit.

"Your appearance is adequate." Sotok orders a transport to the bar.

They materialize in the warm California evening on a pedestrian street lined with bars, with patrons bustling between them. Sotok faces a small bar which is mainly open to the street. The interior is moderately full, with a crowd mainly comprised of Starfleet cadets.

"When we get there," Sotok tells him, "Follow my instruction. You will be my 'wingman.'"

"Your wingman?" Rylek asks.

"It is an Earth expression. My objective tonight is to have sex with Cadet X'thara."

Rylek looks stunned. "Are you not still engaged to T'Shel?"

Sotok levels a piercing gaze at Rylek. "Once T'Shel and I consummate our first _pon farr_ , we will be bonded for life. If I do not use my time on Earth to engage in other sexual experiences, I will be forever uncertain of what it would be like to be with a woman other than her. As a corollary, I will be more likely to engage in infidelity. And I know of techniques to conceal the memories from her when we meld. Therefore, it is a completely logical course of action."

"I suppose."

"Do not question my logic. Come along." They cross the street and enter the pub. Sotok nods to a table of two young Bajoran men and a Romulan woman, who greet him and Rylek as they pass.

"This is Rylek," Sotok tells them. "One of the new freshmen."

"Hi, Rylek," says a bearded Bajoran.

"Greetings," Rylek replies, a note of apprehension in his voice.

"Excuse us," Sotok says to them. "We will return shortly."

He gestures for Rylek to follow, and approaches the bar. There is a human with a goatee in a cadet's uniform. Next to him is an Orion woman with deep green skin, black lipstick and red hair, clad in a yellow sundress. She is sitting next to an Andorian in a black tank top and tight pants, with wavy, shoulder-length white hair. She is sipping a dark blue drink.

Sotok walks close to them and leans against the bar. "I present to you: Cadet Rylek. A freshman and my roommate."

The Orion smiles and shakes his hand. "X'thara. Welcome, Rylek. Glad you could make it." She gestures to the young man next to him. "This is Cadet Jacques Touré."

"Hi," Jacques says as he shakes Rylek's hand.

"Greetings," Rylek says.

Sotok eyes the human. "You are in uniform."

"Yeah. These two didn't really seem to approve either. And I guess I shouldn't question you sophomores. But I don't know, there are other people in uniform here."

"Yeah, and I bet it's all freshmen," the Andorian says. "They think they're impressing people, but they're not. It's a rookie move." Her eyes and antennae turn to Rylek. "Hi. I'm Vanda."

"Rylek." He extends his hand and she takes it with a firm grip as Sotok engages X'thara in conversation, with Touré standing to the side.

"What stream are you in?" the Andorian asks.

"Navigation," he replies.

"Ah, a flyboy." She sips her drink. "I'm in tactical. Nav stream is really good too, though. The faculty is top notch."

"Yes," Rylek answers. "I feel very fortunate to have been admitted to this program."

"You want a drink?" she asks. "I'm drinking Andorian ale, but Suzuki also makes a great Vulcan tea."

"Er, yes. A tea, please."

She leans over the bar. "Hey, Suzuki?"

A dark-haired, middle aged human of non-binary gender looks up from replicating a line of shot glasses. "What can I do for you, Cadet Avala?" Suzuki asks.

Avala gestures to Rylek. "This is Rylek. One of the new freshman class of Intensive Astrophysical. He was looking for a tea."

"Welcome, cadet," the bartender smiles. "What can I get you? I've got a nice fresh _stilak_ -root, and if you don't mind waiting a few minutes, I can brew it the old-fashioned way."

Rylek glances at the young Andorian, then back to the human. "Ah… yes, please."

"Coming right up."

"Thank you very much," Rylek says as Suzuki leaves to open a cupboard.

Avala takes a drink. "So. What do you think of Earth?"

Rylek looks around. "So far, I have found humans to be very welcoming." He glances down the bar. "The bartender, for example. This establishment could be fully automated, and Suzuki obtains no material benefit from working here. And yet they opt to extend that additional gesture of hospitality to expatriates like us."

"I agree. I've had nothing but good experiences with humans. They're almost aggressively hospitable. And I find it really refreshing how committed they are to Starfleet ideals and everything." She takes another drink, and takes a moment to savour it. "I wasn't sure if it would be different since they announced last year that the Federation government is moving to Bolarus. I was worried the humans would feel like they're losing influence in the Federation or something."

Rylek takes a seat. "From what I have observed, they accept the logic of relocating the government to a more central location, and not having it at the same location as Starfleet Command. Earth has come under attack with disproportionate regularity throughout the Federation's history. For instance, have you ever read about the incident in which there was an alien probe seeking to communicate with ancient Earth sea creatures? It was –"

He is interrupted when X'thara abruptly stands up and throws her drink in Sotok's face.

"You are being illogical," Sotok says, blinking. After a tense moment, he turns and leaves.

"Go _bi'vaq_ yourself," X'thara calls after him angrily.

Avala glances at her. "I think we both saw that coming."

"Ugh. I just cannot believe him." The Orion casts her a weary look. "I should tell V'nara about this. Come on, Jacques. I'll introduce you to Olaar and Benjamin."

"We'll join you in a minute. Rylek is just waiting for his tea. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Vanda. I'll see you two soon."

As X'thara leaves, Rylek turns to Avala. "I must apologize. Some Vulcans can be –"

Avala waves her hand. "Ah, you don't have to apologize for him. But I feel bad for you. He's your roommate, right?"

"Yes."

Her antennae scan the room as she leans close to him. "Well, on the bright side, I think there's a good chance he's going to flunk out this semester."

Rylek raises an eyebrow. "Do you think so? I had been under the impression that he was doing well in the program."

"Well, he talks a big game. But to be honest, I think he's just not really Starfleet material."

"I see."

Avala leans her elbow on the bar and rests her head in her hand. "So, Rylek, what made you decide to be a pilot?"

"Honestly? It was…" Rylek hesitates. "It was my mother. She was a freighter captain, and growing up, I sometimes accompanied her on her runs. And whenever I did, she would allow me to take the helm under her supervision when her pilot required rest." He pauses. "Eight years ago, while delivering supplies to a colony in the Beta Quadrant, her vessel encountered an anomaly. A region of space where the molecular bonds holding matter together were weak. And she and her vessel… disintegrated." Rylek's voice wavers. "Navigation allows me to feel close to her. To imagine a bond that still exists."

Avala gazes at him, saying nothing. Then she leans closer. "Alright, I'm going to tell you something. But I want you to promise not to tell anybody."

Rylek looks alarmed. "I will keep your confidence to the best of my abilities, but there are of course certain ethical parameters which I must observe…"

She waves her hand. "Look, I'm not asking you to lie. Just… trust me. Do you know Dr. Shalvath Pon'Dalaar?"

He looks perplexed. "The astrophysicist and inventor? Yes, although I am not very familiar with her work."

Avala's antennae sweep the room around her, and she says in a conspiratorial whisper, "Alright, so I was watching this lecture she gave recently, and she said she was working on a way to cross the Great Barrier into the Galactic Core."

Rylek receives his tea and takes a sip. "I had thought the gravimetric stresses beyond that point made it impossible to sustain a warp field."

"Yeah, that's what the Barrier is," she says. "But she's figured out how to counteract that. Using a superspace field, or something. I didn't really follow it. And Dr. Pon is totally nuts, there's no question. But if she's right, that means Starfleet could be launching a mission into the Galactic Core in a few years. Which would be, like, a historic mission. And so I decided that everything I do here, going forward, is to study the kinds of phenomena that would be in the Galactic Core. I'm going to specialize as much as I can. And when that mission launches, I'm going to be on that ship." She looks at him intently. "So what do you think?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What do I think?"

"Yeah. I'm Tac, you're Nav. We're not directly competing. And if we pool our resources, we'll be in that much better a position." Her deep blue eyes peer into his. "What do you say? Do you want to be a pioneer in the last truly unexplored frontier in the galaxy?"

Rylek stares at here silently for a long time. "Yes," he finally says. "I believe I do."

Avala smiles. "Very good, Cadet Rylek. I think we're going to be friends."


	8. Chapter 7

_Captain's Log, Supplemental. We have regained control of_ Icarus _thanks to an agreement negotiated by Commander Sparks in which we transport our alien guests to a planet in the tachyon stream. We continue to have no ability to use warp drive aside from our makeshift tachyon "sail" technology. Our probes have begun to detect evidence of a highly advanced culture which is native to this tachyon phenomenon, who apparently call themselves "the Civilization." We know very little about them other than what we know of our visitors, but they are making modifications to our ship, and I intend to find out why._

Captain Rashid stands in the turbolift, facing forward, her hands clasped behind her back. Next to her, Lieutenant Avala absently puts her hand on the holster of the phaser mounted on her hip.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" the Andorian asks.

Rashid regards the younger woman with compassion. "Of course."

Avala stares forward. "I've been thinking about something you said. About how being out here… changes you." Her eyes and antennae turn toward the captain. "I was just wondering how you deal with it."

Rashid meets her gaze. "I, um…" she begins. "Counseling is really important. Even the computer has surprisingly good automated programs for it."

"Yeah. I've been using a holodeck program. It does help." Avala hesitates. "It's just…"

"There are some things that cut so deep to your sense of reality that no amount of therapy can really address them," Rashid says.

"Yeah."

The lift stops. "Deck five," the computer says as the door slides open to an empty corridor.

Rashid puts her hand on Avala's shoulder. "I know. Sometimes I tell myself that everything that happens to us expands the Federation's understanding of the universe. We stand on the frontier of what we know. And some of what we find out here teaches us not only about the universe, but also about ourselves. And we may find that a lot of what we think we know is wrong." She pauses. "But it's always better to know the truth."

Avala lets this sink in. "Yes, sir," she says with confidence.

Rashid draws her tricorder. "Let's go see what kind of modifications they were making to the deflector array. But come talk to me anytime. It… helps to talk."

"I will. Thank you, captain."

They walk cautiously down the corridor until they reach the door. Avala reaches for her phaser, but Rashid gestures to leave it holstered.

They pass through the door into the small deflector control room. Opposite them is the interior side of the deflector dish, with strange, sinuous cables strung along various stations to a bulky greyish mound in the center of the room. Five diminutive reptilian creatures stand around the mound. Each turns its single eye to Rashid and Avala as they draw near. Starlight streams into the corridor from two small rectangular portholes on each ventral bulkhead.

"What are you doing to our deflector array?" Rashid asks the creatures.

The aliens open their vertical mouths. "We are improving your technology," they say in unison. "It is primitive. We are enhancing your ability to navigate the River."

"The River. Is that the tachyon phenomenon?"

"The River sustains the Civilization," they reply.

She looks at the cables interfacing with the sleek Starfleet technology. "I need you to stop," she tells them.

"Why would you not desire for your technology to be improved?" they ask.

"We are getting by."

A moment passes between Rashid, Avala, and the aliens. Then they reply, "Very well. We will deactivate it." There is a clicking noise, and they step back from the mound. "It is done as you wish."

"Thank you," she says to them. "My name is Zia Rashid."

"We are Strind Cluster Ch'akak," they say.

Rashid looks between the creatures. "You're a collective consciousness."

"All is shared within a Strind Cluster." Five beady eyes peer at her. "You are fringers, yet do not seek to kill the Strind."

Rashid glances at Avala, then steps forward. "No. We are a peaceful people. We want to open diplomatic relations with your culture."

They blink simultaneously, saying nothing.

There is a tone. "Bridge to Captain Rashid."

She looks up. "Rashid here."

On the bridge, Commander Sparks sits in the command chair with an ops console projected in front of him. Rylek sits in front of him at the conn, and Sorensen and Joe are to his left. "Our probes are coming within range of Host, sir."

"Acknowledged. On my way up. Rashid out."

On the bridge, Sparks glances to his right. Uyu is seated cross-legged on the floor, gazing out the viewscreen at the dense, bright streaks of warp drive.

"You could generate a chair," he says to her.

Uyu gazes up at the translucent ceiling. "I'm comfortable."

He eyes the human-like being. "So can you tell me anything about what can we expect to find at Host?"

"It's, well… it's honestly not that memorable," she says. "There are a lot of Citizens there. Some Strind, some other."

He looks at her. "Any others like you?"

She grins. "Please, commander. There are no others like me."

Out of Sparks' field of vision, Rylek glances at Sorensen, an eyebrow raised. She smirks.

"Hah. No, I suppose not," Sparks says to Uyu. "But I want you to know, we are looking to establish good relations with the Civilization, so if there's anything at all you can tell me, it would be really helpful. Is there anyone we can speak to in an official capacity?"

She looks at him, then returns to a cross-legged seated position. "Yes. There's a magistrate. I'll introduce you to him."

"A magistrate."

"That's right." She climbs to her feet. "He's quite reasonable."

"Well, that would be great," Sparks says.

"The first probes are coming within sensor range of Host," Sorensen announces.

"Route the telemetry through the viewscreen."

Behind Sparks, the turbolift door opens. Rashid and Avala emerge in time to see the viewscreen shift to show a stellar system. In front of them is a dense, spherical cloud of brown gas surrounded by a pale halo of light. Beyond it is a small, pale white star. Between the ship and the white star, a dark planet-like object can be seen.

Sorensen peers at the gaseous orb. "That's a stellar remnant," she says. "A zombie star. And we've got a white dwarf. And…" she trails off.

Rashid walks to her side and examines her holographic readout. "Silicon-based. It's a lifeform."

" _Was_ a lifeform," Joe observes. "From these readings, I'd venture it's been dead for billions of years."

Rashid walks toward the viewscreen. "Enhance."

The distant, vaguely spherical object resolves into a larger image. A partial covering of pale grey clouds obscures the tightly-curled carcass of an immense spaceborne creature. A hemisphere of the body is covered by a chitinous, dome-like shell covered by blue-green vegetation. Beyond the rim of the shell is a grey ocean, interspersed by eight coiled limbs. The segmented joints have been weathered over time but still reach fully out of the sea at their highest point. At the northern pole of the body, the creature's head is tucked nearly into the shell, facing into the ocean, its features nearly erased by time. The night side of the carapace is illuminated by millions of points of artificial light.

"It's about 1.3 times the size of the Earth," Sorensen reports, "but only about 0.8 times the mass. A lot of the surface appears to be urban." Her eyes are wide. "There's a lot here that I… I don't really understand what I'm seeing."

"That's alright, Susan," Rashid says, transfixed by the image on the screen. "That is remarkable."

Sparks leans close to Uyu. "You didn't mention Host was the husk of a dead lifeform."

She eyes him. "No, I didn't. I suppose spaceborne creatures like these are less common in the Galactic Fringe. This one was probably in the system when the supernova happened."

"Captain," Avala says urgently from her station. "I'm getting alien ships… a lot of alien ships. Hundreds."

Tiny lights blinking around Host enlarge into ships of diverse configurations. Many are ring-shaped, sometimes hundreds of kilometers in diameter; as they watch, semi-translucent membranes appear within the rings, which catch invisible tachyon particles and propel them to warp. More ships are dropping to impulse and disintegrating their sales. Among the massive ring-ships are smaller craft. Some appear to be organic, with branches growing out from a core in fractal patterns interspersed with sails. Other ships are cobbled together with fragments of various other ships and equipment. A small number of Bal'Horai ships are clustered in high orbit among ships of other configurations.

Joe raises an eyebrow. "It looks like they take their hosting duties seriously."

"Those are just the ones you can perceive." Uyu glances between the crew, who are staring at the viewscreen with awe. "Don't be afraid. You can approach, nobody's going to hurt you. I put a Civilization tag on your ship."

Rashid turns to her. "You installed a 'tag'? Where?"

"It isn't a physical object," Uyu explains with a hint of impatience. "And it won't interfere with any of your systems. It just means everyone is going to leave you to your own business."

"Won't they recognize us as outsiders by the design of our ship?"

"Captain, there are all kinds of ships in the Civilization."

Joe peers at the screen. "Is it a commercial center?"

She regards the hologram. "Exchange is one reason people come to Host. It is a stop along the River, a moderately important center in a relatively unpopulated region. Travellers come here on their journey for any number of reasons. Mine is to meet representatives of some local Citizens called the Deepborn." She blinks. "I've just been in contact with them. They say we should land near the northernmost city. Near the mandibular ridges."

"You've been in contact with them?" Sparks asks. "How?"

"I like you, Isaiah," he hears through his universal translator as Uyu stares at him, her lips not moving. "Your curiosity is endearing, and even a bit infectious. But you're going to have to be okay with me not explaining every aspect of the Civilization to you right now."

"How are you doing that?" Sparks asks her, shock in his voice. "I mean… alright. Of course. It's just… you know."

She smiles, and he hears her voice again. "I know. It's just that we may not have that much time left together. And I want to get to know you."

Sparks glances at Rashid, who is watching the seemingly one-sided exchange with curiosity. He looks back to Uyu. "Of course. I do too."

"Good," she says aloud. "I'm glad we understand each other."

Rashid steps toward Uyu. "I want to know how much you trust these 'Deepborn.' Or that we're not going to get attacked as soon as we land."

"Captain, this isn't the Fringe. No one is going to attack you."

"You did."

"You didn't have a tag then." Her empty white eyes gaze at Rashid. "But to answer your previous question, I don't trust the Deepborn so much that I'm not going to take basic precautions. We'll leave the Locus Key here until I'm sure all my conditions are going to be met. I'd prefer to leave the Strind here to protect it." Seeing Rashid's expression of consternation, she adds, "Trust me. Having Strind on board will make you blend in all the better."

"And you'll take us to the magistrate," Sparks says.

"Yes," she replies. "I will take you to the magistrate."

From the helm, Rylek announces, "Approaching… edge of… stellar system…"

Rashid sits in the command chair and crosses her legs. "Drop sail, Mr. Rylek."

The viewscreen reverts to the streaking lights of warp speed, which resolve into a fixed image of the stellar system displayed in the probe telemetry. The trapezoidal neural interfaces on Rylek's temple cease blinking, and he removes them and affixes them behind the arrowhead of his combadge.

"Set a course for Host," Rashid orders. "Two thirds impulse."

"Aye, captain."

As the ship passes the zombie star in the direction of the alien carcass-world, several of the ring-shaped ships approach them. Avala's antennae snap towards the ships. "Sir…"

"Don't worry," Uyu interrupts, sitting cross legged on the floor once again. "They won't hurt you. Just stay on course."

The crew watches in anxious silence as four of the immense ring ships approach them, their mirrored hulls reflecting the lights of the stars. They grow nearer and nearer on the viewscreen.

Rylek regards the approaching ships with alarm. "Captain, shall I divert our course?"

"Not yet," Rashid answers, watching the viewscreen with rapt attention. "Steady as she goes."

Then the ring ships are upon them, and _Icarus_ passes through the centers of the massive craft one by one. The ring ships continue on their way, eventually altering their heading to return to Host.

"Why did they do that?" Rashid asks Uyu. "Were they scanning us?"

"No," she replies. "It gets them Status."

"Status?"

"Believe me when I tell you, captain, that it is very complicated."

The science console beeps. Sorensen peers at the readout. "Sir, there are, um… tunnels through the exoskeleton. Deep in the surface. There's a lot of interference, but I seem to be getting some very strange gravitational readings."

Uyu stands. "One of those tunnels is where we're going. I'm sending the coordinates now."

There is a soft tone on the helm console, and Rylek looks down with a faintly quizzical expression. "Those coordinates are nearly eight kilometers beneath the surface."

"That's right," Uyu says. "And I've charted a path for you. Trust me."

Rylek looks at the console, then to the captain. Rashid gazes at the viewscreen, which is now filled by Host. Beneath a thin covering of cloud, the worn crags of a cranial exoskeleton are dotted with a thick covering of lights which range from white to pale purples and pinks. The sea of city lights is interspersed with enormous nonagonal holes, and the lights continue down the sides of the holes, eventually blending into an indistinct haze deep beneath the surface. Aircraft and small spaceships travel in and out of the chasms.

"Take us in, ensign," Rashid says, an edge of tension in her voice.

Gingerly, Rylek guides _Icarus_ along Uyu's flight path into the planet's upper atmosphere towards the maw of a tunnel, nearly a kilometer in diameter.

As they pass into the atmosphere, the sky becomes a pale grey. Small clouds of tiny, indistinct shapes fly in _Icarus'_ wake.

"Those are nanobots," Avala reports.

"Ignore them," Uyu says.

Rashid glances at the ops station. "Make sure you maintain our link with Starfleet."

"Aye, sir," Sparks nods. The ship flies over the alien city, passing over high towers which protrude like stalactites from the exoskeleton, apparently hewn from the same material and covered in thousands of lights.

"Captain," Joe says, staring at his console with disbelief, "I'm reading a staggering number of different species on this world. I'm not sure whether some of what I'm detecting can be described as lifeforms, but I estimate that there are over six hundred thousand distinct species living in the cities."

Rashid regards him with shock. "Six hundred _thousand_? That's almost half the total number of sentient beings in the known galaxy."

Sorensen manipulates the holographic image in the air in front of her. "He's right, captain. Some of them are very small communities, as few as one or two individuals, but some, including the Strind, have population in the hundreds of millions. I've never seen anything like this."

"Like I said," Uyu ventures, "Host is a bit of a backwater."

 _Icarus_ crests the edge of the chasm and the bow of the saucer tilts downward. The ship plunges into the illuminated depths of the tunnel, passing by a number of other ships travelling in and out of the space. Uyu's helm program guides the ship into a queue of craft descending into the depths, between the tunnel walls which are covered by more alien towers, each surface bound by its own localized gravitational field. Three greyish egg-shaped craft are directly in front of them, while an amorphous white vessel resembling a jellyfish trails behind them. The queue winds between long, thin strings stretching from one wall of the tunnel to the other.

"Careful you don't hit one of those, my young friend," Uyu tells Rylek.

"What are they?" the ensign inquires.

"Local Citizens."

"I would not wish to injure one of them."

"They wouldn't be injured. You would." Uyu walks toward the front of the bridge and points to an area further down the tunnel, past alien craft landing and taking off between the spires on the tunnel walls. "There. You can set us down over there. My contacts have secured a space for us."

"Alright," says Rashid. "We'll form an away team. Isaiah, you're with me." He opens his mouth, but she continues, "And before you say anything about the risk, you know that I hear you, but I'm invoking first contact protocol." She turns to the other side of the bridge. "Joe, you'll come with us. This whole planet should be within range of the ship's holoprojectors, and if anything goes wrong, we'll send you back to _Icarus_ immediately."

"Ah," Joe says, sounding pleased. "An away mission. It's been some time."

Rashid faces Sorensen and Avala. "Lieutenants, I'm going to leave one of you in command. I know Susan has seniority, but I believe Vanda has more command training?"

"I have no command training," Sorensen replies.

"And you did a command rotation during your year with the Andorian Imperial Guard?" Rashid asks Avala.

"That's right, sir."

She stares at the younger woman for a moment. "Very good. Lieutenant Avala, I'm leaving you in command. And in the event that you lose contact with us, your orders are to get Joe back, and immediately leave Host. You'll then contact Starfleet Command. Is that understood?"

"Understood, sir," Avala replies.

Rashid casts a sidelong glance at Uyu, and leans closer to Avala. "And at the first sign of trouble, you're to beam the Strind and the 'Locus Key' off the ship. I don't want us getting mixed up in anything."

"I understand."

Rashid faces the front of the bridge. "Very well. Set us down, Mr. Rylek."

"Aye, captain."

 _Icarus_ enters the gravitational well of one of the walls of the tunnel, and its thrusters guide it to an empty space on a crowded flight deck, between a large, streamlined aircraft and two smaller spacecraft with a similar appearance to a tangle of brown brambles. Landing struts emerge from under _Icarus_ ' arrowhead-shaped saucer and the lower two nacelles, and the small Starfleet vessel sets down amid the tight crowd of alien ships.

* * *

The Exarch sits in the center of a wide, circular room. The walls are adorned with holographic images, scenes from Romulan and Reman mythology enacted by stylized figures. There is a dome overhead which is open to space, and the lights of warp drive cast various hues around the ornate space. The Exarch sits at a table covered in intricate designs, with a bottle of bright blue liquid in front of him and two crystal tumblers.

A door slides open in front of him, and the Centurion roughly shoves Pon into the room. "The Tellarite, my liege," she says, bowing before him. Pon glares at him with beady black eyes.

"Commander Pon," he says, standing and gesturing for the Centurion to leave. The Reman genuflects, then exits into the corridor, the door sliding shut behind her.

"What do you want?" Pon demands.

The Exarch gestures at the table. "Please, sit. Drink with me."

Suspiciously, Pon walks toward the table, eyeing the drink. "Romulan ale?"

"One of the few bottles remaining that was brewed on our homeworld," the Exarch tells her as he sits and pours two drinks. He hands one to Pon.

She takes it in her claw-like hands and sniffs it, sitting across from him.

"Please. You do not think I would try anything so crude as to poison your drink." He raises his glass in a toast.

"I'm not toasting anything," Pon growls, downing her drink all at once. She sets the crystal tumbler down hard on the metal table, and wipes her mouth. "I see you've dropped the royal 'we.'"

The Exarch sips his ale. "I wish to speak to you not as Exarch, but soldier to soldier."

"Uh huh." Pon leans back. "So, did you get all the dilithium loaded on the ship?" she asks spitefully. "All the natural resources? Have you been basking in the adulation of your underlings for this great victory?"

The Exarch raises an eyebrow. "Have I not earned your grudging respect even now, Tellarite?"

"You'll excuse me if I'm not impressed by the spectacle of two species slugging it out for dominance like a couple of _tal_ -hogs fighting over a carcass. No, you have not. I found the whole thing rather pathetic."

"Your Federation values have blinded you."

"Please. You don't know anything about Federation values."

The Exarch leans back in his chair and laces his fingers. "On the contrary. As a young man on Romulus, I was schooled in Federation values by your Ambassador Spock. After the destruction of Romulus, I was among the most strident voices for Reunification. And I was among the first to settle on Vulcan. I immersed myself in Vulcan philosophy, and became the first Romulan to undergo the _Kolinahr_ , the path of pure logic."

Pon opens and closes her mouth in surprise. "Well, I stand corrected. You turned your back on Federation values. And here I thought there was no way I could possibly respect you any less."

"I did not turn my back on them. Above all else, you prize knowledge of the truth of the universe above all else. I learned that truth the day the Klingon great houses defied Chancellor Martok and invaded our territory, to burn our worlds and slaughter those who chose to remain in what was our empire. And the Federation did nothing."

"Bullshit!" Pon barks. "We saved billions of lives. Thousands of Starfleet officers gave their lives in the evac operations. And if you think the Federation going to war with the Klingons would have changed any of what happened to your people…"

The Exarch shouts over her, "That day I learned that there is only one truth, and that truth is power. You are a scientist. You know that we are naught but biological organisms, locked in a struggle for dominance. That is the truth of nature, and that is the truth of what we are."

Pon scoffs. "That is an is/ought fallacy and if you knew anything about science _or_ philosophy you wouldn't be making it. You sound like an idiot right now." She bares her teeth. "If you really want to talk about philosophy, why don't we talk about your crew, who blindly followed you and your sophomoric ideology into the Galactic Core. Why don't we talk about the ethics of your 'plan' to start fights with whatever unknown species you come upon, and whether that's really to the net benefit of your people. To say nothing of whether answering the question of 'who has more guns' actually contributes to our understanding of the universe in any way."

"The thirst for dominance is deeply ingrained in our nature. Without it, our lives are nothing. This is the truth that Surak could not understand. It is why my ancestors left Vulcan, and it is why I did the same. To live according to our true nature."

"Okay, sure," Pon says. "Let's accept, for the sake of argument, that 'dominance' is really a social good, that 'dominant' people are qualitatively better off, leaving aside the question of whether those people are actually happy, or just constantly paranoid about losing their position. Let's think about how sustainable that is, as a basis for social action. Internally, you've got paralysis, as the public sphere is a zero-sum struggle for personal advantage – for example, the government of the old Romulan Star Empire."

The Exarch scowls. "The Romulan Star Empire –"

"Was not actually ever all that effective," Pon interrupts, "because the government was constantly paralyzed by internal intrigue. And let's say you solve that problem, say by a brutally imposed hierarchy, and your species is now invested in external dominance. Let's take a census of species that organized themselves that way in our quadrant. The Cardassian Empire: destroyed by their alliance with the Dominion. The Romulan Empire: destroyed by a natural disaster. The Klingon Empire: laid to waste by the Borg. In each case, the worst effects could have been mitigated by a more proactive approach to relations with their neighbours. Now we're the only ones left standing, and if you don't think that has something to do with our values and our pursuit of science, and our focus on cooperation over competition, you're delusional."

"The Federation will die," the Exarch snarls. "Its people are weak. They dedicate themselves to indulging their whims, and have no sense of duty or sacrifice. And you, Starfleet. Now that you are here, at the final frontier. What will you do now? Perhaps you will brave madness to cross the void between galaxies. But more likely, you will wither…" He pauses. "And die."

"Hey, friend, first of all we are not even close to understanding everything there is to know about this galaxy. And second, I think if you were to ask most people whether they'd rather live in the Federation or here, for very good reasons they would say –" She tries to move her arm, but it is caught by a forcefield surrounding the chair. The Exarch places a small control unit on the table and stands.

"Aw, what's this? Are we done talking because you're losing the argument?"

"Logic was not the only skill I learned when I underwent the _Kolinahr_ ," he says, approaching her.

Pon rolls her eyes. "Alright, here we go," she sighs. "You know what? You're just… you're just wrong about everything. Everything about this, it's all just objectively terrible. And needlessly so. Your lives don't have to be like this. And the fact that you can't see that… it just saddens me."

The Exarch turns Pon in her chair to face him. He towers over the seated Tellarite by nearly a meter. "My people have never had a master like Surak to teach us to unlock our psychic abilities. But we have them, just like our cousins. I am the first to learn. And I am now guided by the Remans." The Exarch seizes her face with rigid fingers, and she struggles against his grip and the forcefield.

"My mind to your mind." His face is a mask of rage. "My thoughts to your thoughts."

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


	9. Chapter 8

With a bright shimmer, Rashid, Sparks, and Uyu materialize in an alien cityscape. They are in the shadow of one of many tall, spire-like structures pocked with holes lit by pale light. The spires are densely packed together, with narrow passages between them, and reach up, intertwining in places, into the hazy air. Within the haze, the lights of aircraft and spacecraft can be seen; higher still are the lights of the cities on the opposite side of the tunnel. They stand at the edge of a wide path, several hundred meters across, winding between the spires. Its surface is smooth and dark, and whitish vegetation grows along the sides of it. On the path, alien figures move by at such a high speed that their shapes are not visible.

"What an absurd technology your transporter is," Uyu says as Rashid and Sparks adjust to the lower artificial gravity of the tunnel side city. "Are you really so attached to those specific atoms that you have to reconstitute yourself from them no matter where you go?" She eyes Rashid. "I would think you in particular would have moved beyond such misguided sentimentality."

Rashid meets her gaze, a look of intensity on her face. "We've been using it for centuries, and it's been working just fine." She taps her combadge. "Rashid to _Icarus_. We're in position; you can send Joe to our coordinates."

"Aye, captain," Sorensen replies over the commlink. "Activating holoprojectors."

There is a flicker as Joe blinks into existence for a moment, then disappears. He flickers in and out a few more times, never resolving for more than a few milliseconds.

On the bridge, Sorensen peers at her console, Avala watching from the station next to her. "Hang on," Sorensen says. "I'm getting some signal degradation for some reason… attempting to compensate…"

Then the doctor snaps into being next to them. He takes a facsimile of a deep breath and smiles at Rashid. "A bit of fresh air – just what the doctor ordered."

Rashid smiles back and hands him a tricorder. "Glad you could join us."

A trio of plant-like beings emerge from a passage at the base of the spire next to them, with hundreds of tall, slender fronds over a meter high growing from a gnarled body. The beings shuffle past them and step onto the path, immediately vanishing down it in a blur of motion.

"Speaking of primitive modes of transportation," Uyu continues, gesturing at the path. "Anywhere else, we'd be able to transport directly to the meeting place. But this district is under the jurisdiction of the Deepborn, and they feel that teleportation isn't appropriately reverential for those seeking to enter the Deep. But I can't afford to antagonize them at this point. Come along."

She steps toward the edge of the path and beckons for the officers to follow. Sparks is close behind her, pointing his tricorder at the alien shapes shooting past them at high velocity along the path. "Looks like a localized spatial anomaly, out of phase with normal spacetime."

"Yes," Uyu replies impatiently. "And I can assure you it's quite safe. You'll even get to where you're going with all your original atoms. But we need to go in together; the last thing I need right now is to have to hunt for lost Fringers. So are you ready?"

Sparks glances at the captain, who nods and steps forward. Then the four of them cross the threshold and are on the path. They appear to be standing still as the cityscape speeds by around them. The path is bustling with a wide range of alien species, from the approximately humanoid to far more alien forms. Some appear to be clusters of greyish fungi, others are clusters of geometric shapes that appear to be made from mineral, and others still appear to be various types of synthetic lifeform. A few, including small groups of Strind, are moving among the throng of species, but most are completely motionless. None seem to pay the away team any attention.

"Can they see us?" Rashid asks.

"Yes, but most are busy with their own activities." Uyu glances at Sparks, who is engrossed in the readings on his tricorder. She takes it from his hand and closes it.

"Hey," he says, glaring at her.

"You look ridiculous," she replies. "Just be patient – we'll be there shortly."

Joe gazes at the blur of motion surrounding them. "I don't suppose we'll get there faster if we start walking."

"No."

"Zia!" calls a male voice from the crowd. Rashid turns and sees a familiar face emerging from the crowd and approaching her, a bearded human male wearing a dark smock.

"Omar," she gasps in spite of herself.

"Hey, _habibi_ ," he says, grinning. He is soon joined by an elderly Vidiian woman wearing an Earth-style sweater and slacks, and a female Ferengi is a slim, low-cut green dress.

Joe gazes at the Vidiian. "Danara," he says softly. "My god… you died…"

She smiles warmly at him. "Hi, Shmullus. I'm so glad to see you. Why don't you come along with me; there's a place we should go."

Collecting herself, Rashid approaches the being who appears to be her husband. "On behalf of the United Federation of Planets…"

Uyu steps between the officers and the newcomers, interrupting Rashid. "Ignore them. Trust me, you don't want to go where they're trying to take you." To the facsimile of Danara Pel, she says, "They're with me. Go away."

There is an expression of sadness on her face, and Joe watches her turn to leave, completely motionless.

"You really should come with me," the ersatz Omar says to Rashid.

"Ah, sorry," Rashid says awkwardly. "Not… not this time."

He turns to leave, and the Ferengi woman follows. She casts one last glance at Sparks and winks, the many earrings on her small lobes clinking together.

Rashid leans close to Sparks. "That Ferengi woman – was she the bartender on _Deep Space Nine_?"

"Yeah," Sparks says, glancing away. "Zel is her name."

Rashid's eyes widen. "Are you two…?"

"It's complicated," he says, visibly awkward.

Rashid grins slightly. "I see." She turns to Uyu. "Maybe we should keep moving."

"I agree," Uyu replies. She casts an inscrutable glance at Sparks as she leads them further along the path.

Rashid and Sparks move to follow, then glance at Joe. The hologram is still frozen in place, with an expression of profound sadness.

"Joe?" Rashid asks, approaching him. She taps her combadge. "Rashid to _Icarus_. We're losing him again."

"Hang on," Sorensen's voice replies. "I'm having a bit of a hard time getting a signal through that anomaly. I'm going to try taking his program offline and re-projecting him. One second."

The doctor vanishes, then rematerializes. He turns to Rashid.

"We've got him," Rashid confirms. "Good work, Susan."

"Um… aye, captain. _Icarus_ out."

"I know that wasn't really her," Joe says softly, "but I never thought I'd see her face again." A tear wells up in his eye and runs down his lined face, dematerializing as it drips from his chin.

Rashid puts a hand on his shoulder. "I know. I miss her too."

Ahead of them, Sparks catches up to Uyu. "What was that? Were they reading our minds?"

"Of course they were." Uyu casts a sly glance at Sparks. "A glimpse into the deepest desires of Isaiah Sparks. I'm jealous of her. Would you like me to assume her form?"

Sparks' dark skin is flushed. "Please don't. That would be all kinds of awkward."

The blur of their surroundings seems to bend around them, and they are suddenly lurched back into sync with their surroundings. They are on a platform made of an unknown crystalline material, carved with curved lines branching into more complex patterns. The aliens around them suddenly begin to move, walking toward a shimmering, reflective membrane of energy. The membrane is immense, stretching nearly a kilometer above their heads to the city streets high above them on the far faces of the tunnel.

Rashid, Sparks, and Joe crane their necks to gaze at the enormous energy field as the aliens around them bustle toward it and pass through, one after another.

"This must be the end of the tunnel," Sparks observes.

"That's right," Uyu says. "The Deep is beyond the field."

Rashid points above them. "There are ships going through that membrane. Why didn't we take _Icarus_ through?"

Uyu eyes her disdainfully. "Because I prefer to maintain at least a modicum of style. Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to communicate with the Deepborn, and these wonderful brains of ours don't allow me to talk to them at the same time. So if you don't mind."

Rashid folds her arms. "Whatever you need to do. We'll be here."

"Thank you." Uyu tilts her head upward and closes her eyes.

Rashid steps back to Sparks and Joe, her eye on their alien guide. "Your opinion on how this first contact is progressing, commander?" she asks, slightly sardonic.

"I think I'm going to hold off on my assessment," Sparks says in a low voice, "until we meet some other representatives of the Civilization besides her."

"It is certainly going better than some of the first contacts I've experienced," Joe adds.

"I'm glad to hear that," Rashid smiles. She glances over her shoulder and steps closer to them. "Listen, I need to tell the two of you something, and I know this isn't really the time, but I think Uyu knows, and I'd rather you hear this from me than from her."

"Of course, captain," Sparks says with an expression of concern.

Her eyes dart between the officers. "Alright. So, on our last mission, on Terminus, I had to do an emergency orbital drop from the upper atmosphere. During that drop, my suit breached. And I… and Zia Rashid died." She pauses to collect herself. "I am a copy of her, generated automatically by the technology on that planet."

Sparks says nothing for a moment. Joe narrows his eyes. "I've done several biometric analyses of you since I've come aboard this ship. You are human."

"It was very sophisticated technology," Rashid replies. "But I can tell you that it's true. The system had retrieved my body… her body… before it had completely burned. I saw it. I… had a funeral for it." She blinks. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

Sparks stares at her. "And you haven't told anybody about this. Not me, not Starfleet."

She looks up at the taller man to meet his gaze. "No. Only Pon knows."

"I see."

"I realize it's a serious breach of protocol and I'm prepared to discuss it further when we get back to the ship. But I'm telling you now because I feel it's important that you're aware of it in case Uyu tries to use it against me somehow."

Sparks stares into her dark eyes. "And everything you did on Terminus, and since… that was you? The copy?"

She nods. "That's right."

He puts his hand on his beard. "Well, I… um. I haven't seen any evidence that you've been compromised in any way. So, in light of that, I don't really see that it immediately impacts the mission. You're not compromised, are you?"

"I don't think so. I'm a bit shaken. Don't really know how to process it."

"Well, that's understandable, I'd say. You really do need to tell Starfleet, though."

"I know." She turns apologetically to the doctor. "Joe, I should have told you…"

He holds up his hand. "As a hologram, one develops a broader understanding of the nature of identity. You are Zia Rashid, my friend. There's been no doubt in my mind since I arrived on _Icarus_ , and I see no reason to doubt it now."

"Thanks," she says softly. "I –"

"FRINGERS!" roars a sibilant voice. Rashid and Sparks draw their phasers and whirl to see two hulking Bal'Horai charging at them. They fire at the creatures, but the phaser beams dissipate against chitinous exoskeleton. The humans dive but are too slow to escape the path of the aliens' scythe-like talons, which pass through them as if they were holographic, leaving the humans unharmed.

"Hey!" shouts a female voice. "HEY! Get away from them!"

Each of the Bal'Horai shifts on four trunk-like legs to face Uyu. Rashid and Sparks climb to their feet, holding phasers in front of them and shaking as Joe rushes to their side and scans them.

"What are you doing?" Uyu demands, approaching the much larger aliens with a look of fury. "You can't just attack them here. This isn't the Bal'Horai district."

"The Fringers destroyed our world," one of the Bal'Horai hisses at her. "They must pay!"

Uyu looks exasperated. "What happened to you was your own fault. You are followers of the Archetype of Violence! Your entire culture is based on death and destruction; did you think it wouldn't end that way too?"

"Wait!" Rashid shouts. "Did you say Fringers destroyed your planet? Was it the Romulans?"

The second Bal'Horai turns back to her and makes a menacing hissing noise from deep within its mandibles.

"That wasn't us!" Rashid protests.

"You are the same!" the Bal'Horai bellows.

"If I may," the doctor says, "there's an explanation for our common appearance. You see, millions of years ago, there was a species which seeded many of the planets of our galaxy with a common DNA sequence…" He is drowned out by the Bal'Horai's roar.

"Oh, just stop it," Uyu snaps at the aliens. "You're scaring them. You know you can't hurt them here."

"You may have been found innocent at trial," the first Bal'Horai growls at Uyu, "but I still consider you an enemy of the Bal'Horai."

"I don't care about that at all. You don't belong here anymore."

Hissing at her, the Bal'Horai slink away. Then they stare upward and disintegrate into wisps of particles.

The doctor scans the space where they vanished as Sparks turns to Uyu. "Where did they go?"

"Out."

"Out of where?"

"It's beyond your comprehension."

Rashid puts her phaser away, her hand trembling slightly. "Those aliens said Fringers destroyed their world. Do you know anything about that?"

Uyu exhales sharply and turns away. "The Bal'Horai homeworld was recently attacked by a Fringer faction calling themselves the Romulan Star Empire."

Rashid narrows her eyes. "Have you known this all along?"

Uyu runs her hand along her smooth scalp. "Since we got to Host, if you must know." She turns to Sparks, her lips pursed. "I was going to tell you. I promise."

"What else haven't you told us?" Sparks demands angrily. "There's no magistrate either, is there?"

"No. The Civilization doesn't have a government the way you understand it. There are beings who have great influence within the Civilization. I used to be one of them. But they're not concerned with governing a mob of corporeal species."

Rashid's hand remains on her phaser. "Then what are we doing here?"

"You're hostages. Obviously. I need to make sure your crew doesn't turn on me and keep the Locus Key for themselves." Seeing the officers' angry expressions, she continues, "But you'll be happy to know that I have reason to think your fellow Fringers are heading to Locus as well."

"Why should we believe you?" the doctor asks.

"I don't know. Believe it or not, if you like. But it is true." She folds her arms across her dress. "Now, can we please go meet the Deepborn? They're waiting for us, and they'll confirm everything I've said. And I suppose they're the closest thing to a local authority."

Rashid glances at Sparks. "I don't get the sense that we're in any danger here," he says quietly to her. "Our best option may be to see this through."

"I agree – I don't think we have a lot of better options at this point." She turns to Joe. "Keep the comm lines open with the ship. Tell them to be ready to pull us out at a moment's notice. And tell them to keep a close eye on the Strind on the ship."

"Aye, captain," Joe replies.

Rashid steps toward Uyu. "Alright, if we're going to do this, let's do it."

"Good." Uyu turns on her heel and walks toward the energy field. She glances back at them and beckons, then steps through the mirrored surface.

Joe approaches the field. "Let me go first." The captain nods, and Joe passes through the field. A moment later he steps back, with an awestruck expression on his face. "You should come through."

Glancing at each other, Rashid and Sparks step through the field.

They emerge on the other side, at the edge of a platform like the one they came from. In front of them is a vast cavern lined by glittering crystals of every colour and shape. Vein-like tendrils of crystal stretch across the enormous empty space, some interspersed with knob-like clusters. Spheres of light of various colours drift through the cavern, and beams of multicoloured light reflect off the crystals, creating beautiful, intricate patterns of light throughout the space. A wide variety of aliens are floating through the space as if weightless.

Rashid and Sparks take in the dazzling sight. "Wow," she says eventually.

"Yeah," Sparks replies. "Never seen anything quite like this before."

"We often forget how remarkable a thing it is to be an explorer," the doctor muses. "To be able to see sights like this."

Uyu watches them for a moment. "You can tell the Deepborn you like their home. They'll be happy to hear it." She gestures beyond the platform into the chasm before them. "Now, we're almost there, and for the final part we are going to fly. You don't have to do anything; it's like being weightless. Alright?"

Rashid looks at her sternly. "We're ready."

They follow Uyu to the edge of the platform. Then Uyu, Rashid, and Sparks are lifted from their feet and drawn into the cavernous space by an unseen force. The doctor waits for a moment, then shrugs and steps off the platform and walks through the air behind them as if it was solid ground, matching his speed to theirs. "Not very hologram-friendly, is it?" he asks.

"You are photonic," Uyu says to him as a tripedal semi-humanoid creature, at least five meters tall, floats past them in a different direction. "You don't need it."

"I would have appreciated the courtesy."

They approach a crystalline structure, similar to a starburst in shape, which seems to hang suspended in mid-air. They approach at a high velocity and land on a geode formation on the lower half of the structure, and their sense of gravity shifts as they land so that they feel as if they are standing upright. Both Rashid and Sparks begin to stagger, disoriented, and the doctor rushes to their side and injects their necks using a hypospray synthesized from his tricorder.

Out of holes in the glittering ground, alien beings emerge. They are long and slender, with no limbs. Their skin is milky white and covered in a film of slime. Each creature points at them with both end of its body, resting on the ground on their midsections. A tripartite jaw opens at each end of the creature's body, revealing rows of needle-like teeth coated in thick mucus.

"So," they hear through the rendering of the translator. "You have returned, Uyu."

"That's right. And I have the Locus Key."

Rashid steps forward, her hands raised in an open gesture. "My name is Zia Rashid, and on behalf of the United Federation of Planets, we greet you. We come in peace."

The Deepborn closest to Rashid turns one of its eyeless faces to her. "Why have you brought these disgusting creatures into our sanctum?" it asks Uyu with the mouth at its other end.

"They're Fringers. My crew has the Locus Key on their ship, and they're going to transport it to you once we agree to terms."

"Very well then, Uyu," one of the Deepborn says with one mouth. With the other, it continues, "State your terms."

"Just one," Uyu tells them. "I want to be keyed into Locus."

"Do you desire to behold the glory of Host during its lifetime?" the Deepborn asks with both mouths. "To make a pilgrimage to the age when Deep coursed with the most sublime nutrient-filled fluids?"

"No. It will be temporal coordinates of my choice."

The Deepborn is silent for a moment. Then, "Very well. You have done us a great service by recovering our sacred Key."

"Hey, it's good Status for me, too," she replies. "I'd say keep a closer eye on your keys, but somehow I don't think you're at risk of any more of your people wanting to turn into Bal'Horai and take them from you."

The Deepborn appear to chortle among themselves. "This region is better without them," one says.

Sparks glances at Uyu. Seeing his urgent expression, she continues, "Which reminds me. My friends are curious about the Fringers who did it. What can you tell us about them?"

One of the Deepborn moves uncomfortably close to Rashid, but she does not react. "They called themselves 'Romulan Star Empire.' Instigated conflict among the Bal'Horai, then came and extracted their resources. And the coordinates to Locus." Its other mouth continues, "Perhaps they wish to behold the majesty of the Living Host."

"Well, I don't know if that's the reason, but I intend to find out," Rashid replies. "Thank you for providing us with this information. And I'd like to add, this sanctum of yours is one of the most beautiful things I've seen in my entire life. It is truly majestic."

Both mouths say, "We are humbled that even a being so putrid as yourselves can sense the holiness of the Deep."

Rashid says nothing for a moment. Uyu interjects, "The contract is made. Are you ready to transport the Locus Key, captain?"

She nods and taps her combadge. "Rashid to _Icarus_. Lock on to the Locus Key and transport it to our coordinates."

After a moment, a white cone-shaped device with purple lights materializes. It begins to levitate and one of the Deepborn swallows it from mid-air.

"You have been keyed to enter Locus," the Deepborn says to Uyu with one mouth. "And you as well, Fringers who have reverence for what is Holy," the other mouth says to Rashid and Sparks. "It is our gift to you. May the River carry you ever onward."

The humans glance at each other. "Your gift is most generous," Rashid replies. "I hope this can be the start of positive relations between the Federation and your people."

The Deepborn begin to chortle once again. Then they slide down the holes in the crystalline ground.

"So," Uyu says, grinning enigmatically. "It looks like we're going in the same direction."

"You really want to travel with putrid creatures like us?" Sparks asks.

"Oh, you're not so putrid," she says, putting her hand on his arm.

"Hang on," Rashid says, stepping closer to Uyu. "We are going to Locus to intercept the Romulans. But if you want to come with us, you've got to accept that you're on my ship and obey my rules. And that means no more lying, no more withholding information. Do you understand?"

Uyu glances at Sparks. "Is she always like this?"

"I think you'd better listen to her," Sparks tells her sternly.

Uyu gazes at Rashid with pupilless eyes. "Very well, captain. I accept your terms. I'll advise my Strind of the change in plans."

She closes her eyes and becomes motionless.

"I thought that went very well, as far as first contacts go," Joe says with a look of satisfaction. "The interests of the Federation are in very capable hands."

"Thanks, doctor," Sparks says, clapping the hologram's shoulder. He turns to Rashid. "Should I alert _Icarus_ to beam us out?"

"Yes," she says, gazing at the crystalline structures all around them in the cavernous space. "But first, if you don't mind, I'd like to just… take a moment."

Sparks and Joe move to her side, observing the light formations all around them, saying nothing.

* * *

Lerex opens her eyes. The lights above her head resolve into focus, and she sees that she is lying on a biobed in the medical ward of the _Syrinx_.

There is a tone when she gains consciousness, and a female Romulan doctor attends to the side of her bed. She has dark skin and severe features framed by tattoos.

"Subcommander Lerex," she says, touching her fist to her chest in salute. "Allow me to be the first to salute you for your glorious attack on the alien computer system. It was integral to our victory. Now I must order you to vacate this biobed. There are many who require treatment."

Lerex shakes her head, disoriented, and climbs upright. As she struggles to her feet, the Romulan physician tells her, "Some of the neurological treatment was done by the Earthman. He said it may be some time before your brain is able to fully process its experiences while merged with the computer."

"Ugh," Lerex groans, stumbling to a nearby sink. She takes water from the angular fountain and splashes it in her face as the doctor continues, "The Great One has instructed me to send you to him when you awaken. He is in the engineering bay."

With shaking hands, Lerex pours water into a glass vessel and chokes it down. She turns around, and the doctor is holding a golden helmet. Lerex takes it and puts it on her head.

" _Jolan tru_ ," the doctor salutes once more.

Lerex stares at her, struggling to keep her eyes in focus. Then she hurriedly exits the bay.

She follows the corridor to the nearest lift as passing soldiers salute her. Unnerved by their reverence, she walks faster until she reaches the lift and shuts the door. Then she leans on the wall at the back of the lift, not commanding it to move.

"Lerex," says a voice, and she screams. "This is Alomar. I've left this message in your synaptic transceiver node. It was the only way I could speak to you without being detected. Listen to me. This is now the second time I've saved your life. And I have only one request in return. Pon has been gone for days, and I'm not a fool; I know I don't have much time left either. All I ask is you help me get one last message to my ship. I know you can help me do that without being detected. I'm not asking you to betray the Exarch or your people – all I want is to speak to my captain, to let her know that it's over and not to come searching for us. And to pass on my goodbyes to my husband and daughters. I know you're a woman of honour, and I'm asking you this officer to officer. No one else on this ship will ever know."

The message ends, and Lerex leans against the wall for a long time. "Engineering," she says eventually, her voice hoarse and dry.

The lift descends and opens. She steps into the corridor which runs through a dense residential area for labourers. Gaunt Romulans and Remans covered in mineral residue are sitting against the corridor walls, exhausted from their work; wiry children run unattended between quarters. The adults bow their heads before Lerex as she passes, praising her and asking for her blessing. She watches them warily as she passes, saying nothing.

Eventually she reaches a door to the engineering bay and enters. She steps onto a platform of metal lattice and enters the wide, cylindrical engineering bay, perhaps eight stories high. Through the latticed floor beneath her feet she can see labourers passing on lower-levels, and more doing the same above her head.

She walks toward the engineering crew's workstations, which are on metal platforms surrounding the central core, one above the other, six in total. Above the workers' heads on each level, the gravity reverses so that another engineering team can work on the ceiling. The platforms wrap around a cylindrical core made of thick transparent deuterium; the forced singularity can be seen through the metal of the core. It is completely black at the center, surrounded by a corona of intense ultraviolet light. It emits violent flares of energy from time to time, seeming to rage against the forces that contain it.

On one of the platforms, she sees the Exarch standing with his back to her. He is with the Viceroy, the Centurion, a team of Romulan engineers, and Pon; they are clustered around a piece of Federation technology.

The Exarch sees her coming and smiles. "Subcommander! _Jolan tru_. The sight of you gladdens Our heart."

"You honour me, my lord," she says, her head bowed. The others salute.

He puts his arm around her shoulder and gestures to Pon, who is deeply engrossed in configuring the bulky piece of technology. "The Tellarite was lying to Us. The technology is compatible. And now she is much more cooperative in helping us install the drive. Isn't that right, Tellarite?"

Pon flinches, but does not look up from the console, avoiding eye contact.

The Exarch steps forward and raises his voice. "Look at Us when we address you, wretch! When will the drive be ready?"

The Tellarite cringes and raises her gaze to him. "Twelve… twelve to fourteen hours, my lord."

He regards her with contempt. "You have ten."

"Y… yes, my lord…" She averts her eyes and returns to her console.

He folds his arms. "Such a brilliant mind," he says to Lerex. "It is a waste. But lo: ten hours and we shall be set loose from this tachyon river and free unto the endless sea of the galaxy. We will pass through the anomaly and restore our worlds."

"My liege." The chief engineer genuflects before the Exarch, a tall male Romulan, bald and heavily tattooed. "I have been monitoring the Tellarite's work, but I confess that there are limits to my understanding of superspace mechanics. I cannot be certain that she is not configuring the technology such that we will be destroyed if we try to use it."

The Exarch examines. "Have you seen any evidence of her duplicity?"

The chief engineer hesitates. "Not directly, my liege, but what I am saying is –"

"Have you seen any evidence," the Exarch repeats slowly, interrupting him.

He bows his head. "No, sire."

"Then your concerns are based on doubt in Our psychic abilities?"

The engineer's expression changes to one of dread. "No! I did not –"

"That our domination of the Tellarite's mind was not complete and total?" the Exarch continues, raising his voice. He seizes the engineer by the throat. "That Our will is not inexorable?"

He hurls the engineer directly upward, past the threshold where the artificial gravity reverses, and the man crashes to the deck above. The Exarch leaps upward, and with a flip at the gravitational threshold, lands on his feet on the deck. The engineering crew on that deck bow as the Exarch strides to the chief engineer, seizes him by the uniform, and slams his head into a console. The engineer crumples to the ground and the Exarch kicks him violently, then kneels and punches him hard in the face again and again, sprays of green blood staining the purple of his uniform. Lerex and the rest of the crew watch the scene unfold above their heads; Pon continues to hunch over the SIM drive unit, flinching slightly at the sound of the Exarch landing his blows.

Eventually the Exarch stands and taps his comm unit. "Attention medical bay. Stand by for transport." Then he taps a console and the bloodied officer disappears in a shimmer of green. He leaps again and lands on the deck next to Lerex.

The Exarch turns to the remaining engineering crew. "Maintain close vigilance over the Tellarite's work and alert Us to any sign of treachery." They hastily salute.

He turns to the Viceroy and Centurion. "Let us oversee the reconstruction of Our fleet. We must be ready for the counterstrike of the Civilization."

"The Civilization are not coming for us," Lerex says, her voice emotionless. "They don't care what we did to the Bal'Horai any more than if we had put down a pack of feral _set'leths_ at the city's limits."

The Exarch raises an eyebrow. "How can this be?"

"I… I saw it all," Lerex answers, anxiety in her voice. "Only the low-Status members of the Civilization exist as corporeal beings. At the higher level, they are not bound by time or space. They can see all possible timelines… And they could see me. They saw me, and I was nothing to them. I was nothing…" She trails off, her voice choked with emotion.

The Exarch takes her in his arms and lays her head against his shoulder. "Take heart, child. Your ordeal has been arduous. When you are able, prepare for Us a report on what you know of the Civilization."

"I will, my lord," she sobs.

He releases his grip and gazes at her warmly. "And you will dine with Us this eve."

"I… I would be honoured."

"We greatly look forward to your presence." He taps his comm. "Transport Us to the flight deck."

The Exarch vanishes along with the Viceroy and Centurion. Lerex takes one glance look at Pon, who looks up, a haunted expression on her face. Lerex averts her eyes and walks briskly away from the engineering control stations.

She passes through the corridors, past the labourers who utter prayers as she passes. The lift takes her to the deck where the officers reside, and she returns to her quarters, which are cramped and undecorated. She removes her helmet and falls to her knees at the edge of her bunk, beginning to sob once again.

Eventually she stops crying and sits on the bunk, staring into space for some time. Then she taps the comm unit at her nightstand.

"Lerex to Alomar."

In sealed quarters lower in the ship, Alomar opens his eyes. His hair is disheveled and he has grown a greying beard. He sits up in his hard bunk and replies, "This is Alomar."

Lerex hesitates. "Doctor, I am prepared to give you what you request. But first, you will do something for me."

Alomar sits up in his bunk. "What did you have in mind?" he asks with suspicion.

"I need you to erase the memories of being joined with the computer. Erase them from my mind. I can't…" she stammers. "I cannot live with them."

Her voice trails off over the comm. Alomar replies, "Very well. I'll provide you with a list of the instruments I will need."

There is another moment of silence. Then Lerex takes a deep breath. "Good. You will stand by."

She deactivates the comm. "Computer," she says weakly. "Begin recording data file." She pauses, then begins, "The Civilization exists on a scale unlike any culture we have yet encountered…"

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**


	10. Chapter 9

_Acting Captain's Log, Supplemental. We continue to await word from Captain Rashid, who has made contact with a species known as the Deepborn. I have been monitoring our tactical situation, and am concerned about the large number of ships surrounding us, many of which possess technology we don't understand. Lieutenant Sorensen, Ensign Rylek, and I have been attempting to sift through the voluminous amount data we've gathered. Aside from that, all we can do is wait._

Avala glances up from a stream of holographic characters scrolling in front of a console on the command chair. She scans the transparent walls of the bridge with her eyes and antennae, examining the alien craft all around them, focusing on a thick brown tangle of biotechnology to starboard.

Rylek, stationed at the helm, catches her eye. He glances at Sorensen, who is conversing with the computer in a low voice, and then approaches the command seat.

"Your first command does not resemble one of War-Princess M'Giia's adventures," he observes.

She smirks. "No. But I'll take boredom over these ships deciding to make a move on us."

"Logical."

She gazes up at him for a moment. "Look," she says in a low but warm voice, "this is absolutely not the time, but I just wanted you to know that I'm happy with where we are. Deciding to put our friendship first, despite whatever may have happened between us… well, it's the logical choice."

"I concur," Rylek nods intently. "It is clearly the most mutually advantageous way to proceed."

"Yeah. And we'll talk about it more later. Once we get some downtime, I'd really like to spend some time together. You know, just to celebrate being friends." She smiles and takes his hand discreetly. "You're a great friend."

"And you as well, Vanda," Rylek says with an expression of satisfaction. "The best."

The turbolift door slides open and five Strind emerge, walking in unison. Avala snaps to attention and reaches for her phaser. Five beady eyes stare at her as the diminutive reptilian aliens move to the center of the bridge, near the command chair. They say nothing.

After a long moment of the three officers watching the Strind warily, Avala asks, "Can I help you?"

In unison, they say, "We wish to observe."

Avala peers at them. "You're the cluster I spoke to before, right? Ch'akak, you called yourself?"

"Yes."

"There's not really much to observe right now; we're just waiting to hear from our captain. But I can assure you we're doing everything we can to assure the safety of your… uh… of Uyu."

The five aliens blink simultaneously.

Sorensen ventures, "If you're interested in learning about the Federation, I can provide you with some materials which will explain who we are and what we're doing here."

"We wish to observe," the aliens repeat.

Avala and Sorensen exchange a wary look. "I appreciate that," the Andorian tells them, "but the bridge is normally restricted to Starfleet personnel only. May I ask why you want to observe what we're doing?"

"The Strind observe," they say, "so that the Civilization deepens its understanding of this universe."

Sorensen looks surprised. "Of this universe? Does the Civilization exist in other universes?"

"The Civilization exists in all universes," the Strind tell her. "Each Strind cluster shares consciousness with its counterparts in all possible timelines."

Avala's eyes widen. "You can see all possible universes?"

"Yes. Our consciousness is continuous."

Avala looks between Sorensen and Rylek with an expression of surprise. To the Strind, "So can you tell me what's going on in a particular universe?"

Their horizontal mouths move in unison. "Of course. Our perception is not limited as yours is."

"Well, alright… how about the mirror universe? Just a second, I'll call up the quantum signature of that universe." Avala keys in instructions on one of the consoles on the command chair, and a series of digits appears in the air in front of the Strind.

The aliens eye it for a moment, then reply, "In this universe, this cluster are captives on a different vessel, also called _Icarus_. The Zia Rashid of that universe is forcing us to modify her ship to evade a General Pon. She claims her crew are the last of the Terran species."

"That is wild," Avala marvels. "And, of course it's Pon hunting them."

The Strind glance at Sorensen. "You are there. Wearing different garments."

The pale woman looks pained. "I'm sorry that the Terrans of that universe have done that to you. You have to understand, they embody everything we reject."

The Strind cluster blinks again. "It is nothing for us to experience suffering in that iteration. It is merely a state of being, and we observe regardless. It is the role of Strind to experience this universe so that the Civilization can more fully understand it."

Avala peers at them. "If that's the case, then I think we may have something in common."

There is a tone on Sorensen's console. "It's the captain," she says. "They're ready to return to the ship. Initiating transport directly to the bridge…" Sorensen manipulates the control on her console. Joe blinks into being as Rashid, Sparks, and Uyu materialize on the bridge.

Avala stands. "Good to have you back, captain."

Rashid smiles at the young woman. "It's good to be back. I see the ship is still in one piece."

"I'm pleased to report it's been an uneventful time." Seeing Rashid glancing at the Strind, Avala adds, "They said they wanted to observe."

"You were right to accommodate them." She tugs her uniform top. "There's been a change of plans," she says to Avala, Sorensen, and Rylek. "Uyu and the Strind are staying with us. We have a lead on where the Romulans are going, and just so happens that our friends are heading to the same place."

Avala says to Rashid in a low voice, "Captain, respectfully…"

"It all seems a bit too convenient that we're going in the same direction?" Rashid finishes Avala's query.

"Something like that." Her antennae point towards Uyu.

"That's what I thought too, until I learned what Locus is." Rashid takes the tricorder from her hip and enters a command, and a holographic chart of the tachyon stream appears in the air in the center of the bridge. It zooms into an area of space bounded by a wide ring, within which no tachyons flow. At the center of the ring is an orb of crackling white energy.

"A stable anti-time phenomenon," Sorensen observes with wonder. "I've never seen one of those before."

Uyu steps forward and adjusts the red and black robe hanging off her shoulder. "It's one of several throughout the River. They're a convenient way of travelling through time for those who don't have the Status to do it themselves."

Sparks adds, "We think the Romulans want to use it to travel back in time and save their homeworlds."

Rylek examines the star chart. "There appear to be no tachyon streams in a radius surrounding the phenomenon of over a light year."

"That's right," Rashid answers. "It's surrounded by a ring of chronitons which disrupt the tachyon flow around the phenomenon. Apparently Citizens who are properly 'keyed' can be transported directly through the anomaly into the past. But I doubt the Romulans have been able to get their hands on a Locus Key like the one we had. Which means they'll have to take their ship through." She gestures, and the area surrounding the anomaly is magnified. "That's why they wanted our SIM drive – without it, it's over a year's trip from the chroniton ring to the anomaly at maximum impulse."

"Either way," Sparks says, "if they get there first, we'll never be able to catch them."

Rashid takes a seat in the command chair. "Which means we've got no time to lose. Rylek, begin launch procedures and set a course for Locus."

"Course laid in," the ensign reports. "The computer has calculated a path through the tachyon stream which will take us there in six hours fifty three minutes."

"Make it so," she says.

The thrusters on the underside of _Icarus_ ' hull begin to fire, and the small vessel launches from the crowded landing platform. The arrowhead-shaped saucer turns to face the end of the tunnel, and Rylek gently pilots the ship into a line of outbound traffic behind two ships which appear to be crudely assembled from chunks of debris. Eventually _Icarus_ emerges from the deep, artificially lit tunnel into the grey Host sky, then passes through the upper atmosphere of the carcass-world.

"Deploy tachyon sail," Rashid instructs, and the invisible membrane appears in front of the ship, bound to the prow of the saucer by four cables. It fills with particles, propelling the ship to warp.

"Engage stealth mode."

"Aye, captain," Avala replies. She enters the command on the tactical console. "Do we plan to engage their ship, sir?"

"I'm working on it. But if we can plot their trajectory, we might be able to intercept them without being detected. If we can disable the SIM drive, they'll be reduced to impulse drive, and Starfleet will be able to send a fleet to intercept them before they reach Locus. We'll try to get Alomar and Pon back, but our priority has to be protecting the timeline."

"Why?" Uyu asks from behind Rashid.

Rashid wheels her chair to face Uyu. "Because that is our responsibility as Starfleet officers."

"Your responsibility is to prevent people from altering the timeline? That is ridiculous. The creation of another timeline doesn't even affect you."

Rashid scowls. "There have been many recorded instances of people travelling through time and making changes that have affected our history."

"Do you not understand temporal mechanics?" Uyu asks, exasperated. "Those are people from other timelines! That is why this timeline exists!"

"I am not going to argue metaphysics with you. We are sworn to uphold the Temporal Prime Directive. And you agreed to abide by my rules on this ship."

Uyu glares at her witheringly. "Fine. Do whatever you like." She rubs her eyes. "It seems this body requires rest. If you'll excuse me, captain."

Rashid watches as Uyu enters the lift, followed closely by the Strind cluster. To the rest of the crew, she says, "We should all be well-rested for when we encounter the Romulans. You're relieved for now – report back by oh three hundred hours."

"If I may, captain," Avala says, "I can get a good night's sleep and be back in an hour."

"Do it." Rashid turns to Joe and asks wryly, "Do you still have those command subroutines you were always talking about?"

The hologram's face brightens. "Oh yes," he says. "One moment."

There is a vacant expression on his face for a moment. Then his blue uniform changes to a black one with red shoulders. "Emergency command hologram, at your service." He glances at his uniform. "I suppose I never got around to updating the uniform style."

"I think I'll overlook this infraction this time. You have the bridge for now. I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye, captain," he says as the crew begins to file out. Sorensen approaches Joe, and he says to her, "I recorded some images of the interior caverns on Host. I think you'll be quite interested to see them – they were magificent."

"I, uh… thanks, doctor," Sorensen says uneasily. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Is it something the captain should also know?" the doctor asks.

"Um. Maybe."

Joe calls to Rashid as she walks to the ready room, and she turns around. "What have you got, Susan?"

Sorensen looks between Joe and Rashid anxiously. "Alright. Computer, display Joe Pel's holographic subroutines."

In the space between them, line after line of holographic code scrolls by. Joe examines it wistfully. "Here's everything I am." He points to a line of code. "This was written by Dr. Zimmerman when I was first programmed. And this," he gestures to another line, "is B'Elanna's handiwork." Scrolling through the code, he continues, "This was done by Seven. And here is where Captain Janeway altered my system when an emergency caused me to malfunction." He scrolls forward. "And here, all of this is from after I went back to the Delta Quadrant. You can tell that it's Vidiian work, done by Danara and others. And here, captain, this was done by you when we were expanding my theater repertoire. Everyone who has ever had an impact on my life, programmed into my very being." He pauses. "I'm sorry, lieutenant – you were saying?"

Sorensen looks uncomfortable. "Well, that's also sort of the problem. I noticed I was getting a lot of degradation when we were projecting you on Host, and at first I thought it might have been our holo-emitters, but… your holo-matrix is very old, and there have been a lot of sort of ad-hoc modifications to it over the years, and…"

"What you mean to say," Joe says, "is that I'm dying."

Sorensen is silent for a moment. "It's just… it might theoretically be possible to restore some of the corrupted subroutines, but I don't know if there's anyone alive who's really an expert in mid-twenty-fourth century holo-programming."

He looks at her compassionately. "It's alright, lieutenant. I've been aware of the destabilization of my holo-matrix for some time now. I know I don't have much time left."

Rashid looks ashen. "Is there any way to slow the degradation?"

"If we take his program offline," Sorensen says, "and send it back to Starfleet –"

"I'm not going anywhere," the doctor interrupts her, "and you're not going to take me offline. I am an emergency medical hologram, and it seems to me that you need one right now."

"You are more than that!" Rashid protests. "So much more. I'm not going to risk your holo-matrix being permanently damaged!"

"Don't you understand, Zia?" he asks her. "I am ready to die. I have lived. I have saved lives and made lasting contributions to my profession. I've earned the respect of my peers, and of those I consider close friends. I've inspired my fellow holograms. I had the love of a brilliant, wonderful woman, and we crossed the galaxy together. I've seen the wonders of space, and of people. And I've learned what it means to be alive." There are holographic tears in his eyes. "And I can think of no more fitting end to my life than to fulfill my function one more time."

Rashid wipes away tears. "God damn it, Joe."

* * *

The common room is empty except for Sparks, who sits at a table drinking a large mug of tea and scrolling through a translucent virtual console suspended in air above the table. Through the wide porthole at one side of the common room, the lights of warp drive can be seen; the streaking stars cast multicoloured light that plays on every surface of the room.

There is a soft hiss, and Uyu appears in the seat next to Sparks, casually leaning back. She is clad in a silver bodysuit which appears to be made of a liquid metal, and around her hairless scalp is a black circlet. Five curved stems extend up from the circlet and connect to a larger silver ring suspended above her head, resembling a halo. A veil of crystalline strands descends from the ring, partially obscuring her striped face.

Sparks closes the report and sets his tea on the table. "I was hoping I'd see you here."

She tilts her head, causing a melodic chiming as her crystalline veil shifts. "I thought you might be lonely."

He strokes his beard. "What you just did – the teleportation. Have you always been able to do that?"

With an enigmatic look, she replies, "Returning the Locus Key to the Deepborn got me some Status. It makes certain things easier."

"Listen," he says to her. "I know I've done nothing but ask you questions. But there's one I really need to ask."

"Alright, one more." She leans forward. "But then I get to ask you something."

"It's a deal," he says. "I have to ask you what you're going to do when we get to Locus. Why you're going back in time."

"Mm. That's a bit complicated. But let me try to explain it the best I can." She brushes the veil from her eyes. "Do you remember how I told you that I used to be… different?"

"Yeah. You said you used to have more influence in the Civilization."

"Considerably more. I was an Archetype. Kind of like a living idea. Beings within the Civilization would orient their lives toward emulating me. It's like… the beings that attacked you. The Bal'Horai. They were dedicated to the Archetype of Violence. Everything they are – their culture, their technology, their very genetic structure – was dedicated to that archetype."

"So what archetype were you?" Sparks inquires.

She smiles. "I think the word you have that best encapsulates it is 'whimsy.'"

He smirks slightly. "You were the Archetype of Whimsy?"

"More or less. Beings in every universe would strive to embody me. And by doing that, they constituted me. But I had a higher consciousness as well. I existed in a reality that I cannot possibly describe to you, outside of the bonds of time and space." She pauses. "But I was curious. I thought it would be interesting to live as a corporeal being. And so the Archetype created me for its own amusement – bound by corporeal matter of the lowest Status, but with each form I take being ingrained with the memory of what I used to be."

"You were trapped here," Sparks observes.

She stands up and approaches the porthole. "Every second of it has been torture. Crawling among the filth of this reality. A slave to the laws of physics and biology. But if I can get to Locus, I can return to a time before the Archetype created me. I'd have the Status of the Archetype again, and would reunite with it. At which point there would be no reason for it to create me." She adds, "And I can promise you that it won't affect Fringer history in any way, so don't try to stop me."

"I have a feeling I wouldn't be able to even if I tried." He walks behind her across the room and follows her gaze to the streaking stars.

"No, you would not. But do you know what the most amusing thing about all of it is? Lately, now that I'm finally confident that my time as a corporeal life-form is coming to an end, I've been feeling like there might be things I miss about it. Ever since I met you and your companions. There's something refreshing about you. Just the way that you're so committed to life as organic beings." She breathes deeply. "Alright, Commander Sparks, it's my turn."

He chuckles. "I think my life may be a bit less interesting than yours."

"Well, I don't know. Answer me this. What are you really doing here?"

He opens his mouth, but she interrupts him, "And I don't want to hear about your 'Federation' and its mission of exploration, or whatever it is. I want to know why _you_ are here. What compelled you to leave your world, in what I would imagine is relative comfort and safety, and to thrust yourself into a very dangerous unknown."

Sparks considers this for a long moment. "I don't know if there's really one answer to that. I grew up on Earth, my homeworld, and you're right that everything we could ever want can be found there. And my family taught me to take full advantage of it. I learned eight languages, studied comparative philosophy, rowed competitively, belonged to a great gaming network. But it's like… there was always a hole. Something missing. And I gradually became convinced that Starfleet was the answer. I was one of the older cadets, but I worked hard and eventually rose up the ranks until I was a lead negotiator in some of Starfleet's most dangerous diplomatic missions."

Uyu studies him. "And was the hole filled?"

"Well…" he says slowly. "In a sense. But it came at a cost. Failed relationships, friends lost, and never really having the sense of permanent community that I had on Earth. So yeah, the hole is still there. But I guess as I've gotten older, I've come to think it may come with the territory of being human."

"It's really fascinating," she muses. "Your relationships with others give meaning to your life."

"It's part of being human. Maybe the most important part. Friends. Family. Love."

In a low voice, she asks, "Could you imagine yourself loving me?"

He faces the alien woman. "Well, that would be… I mean, if we had more time…"

She steps closer so that her face is centimeters from his. "Can you imagine yourself kissing me?" she whispers. "You don't have to. There will be no diplomatic consequences, and I'll help you with your mission regardless. I just want to know."

Sparks puts one hand on the small of her back and the other on the side of her face, underneath the crystal veil. He pulls her body close to his and kisses her deeply. She wraps her arms around his neck, returning the kiss.

After a long moment, the kiss ends and they stare at each other in a silent embrace. Eventually Sparks says, "I can imagine it. If we had more time."

She smiles. "Maybe being bound by time is the best part of it. Goodnight, Commander Sparks."

Uyu vanishes from his arms, leaving Sparks alone. He is still for a long time, then takes his tea and sits at a chair by the porthole, watching the stars flash by.

* * *

"We will need to arrive ten years before the destruction of Romulus," the Exarch says, sipping his Romulan ale. He is wearing a loose purple blouse and black pants, and is reclining on a couch in front of a table laid with a sumptuous feast. "Just after the close of the Dominion War. Even if Starfleet's technology fails us, we will arrive in time to save our worlds."

The Viceroy Upexi sits at one end of the couch, with the Exarch's legs across his lap. The Reman is wearing a tight-fitting black cloak with high shoulders, a tumbler of ale in one hand and the other on the Exarch's knees. "Remans are hated by Romulans in that time period. All the more after Shinzon's coup. We will have to make contact with faithful brethren from that era, to make them know that you are the Chosen One."

Lerex's eyes dart around the Exarch's opulent chambers, between the sculptures, mosaics and religious icons displayed throughout the room. She watches the Reman musician in the corner for a moment. He stares at his instrument, a green and black device with a thin antenna, and seems to coax eerie, unworldly tones from the air around it. Then she nervously adjusts the shoulder strap of her dress, which is printed with curving black and white shapes resembling flower petals. The Centurion is sitting next to her, wearing a uniform and unsuccessfully trying to appear relaxed.

"When I am ruler of Romulus, my first act will be to abolish the caste system," the Exarch assures Upexi. "Any who oppress the Remans will be put to death. The Empire will be remade according to the laws of the Twin-Masked One."

"How sweet it will be to once again see the twilit crags of Remus. To gaze upon the Eternal Sunset," Upexi muses. To the Centurion, "Did you ever know our home, sister?"

She shakes her head. "I have known only battle on scores of unnamed worlds. Never a home." She pauses. "Until this ship."

The Exarch examines Lerex. "You have said little tonight, my daughter. What troubles you?"

She looks away. "It is nothing. I am… weary. I've had little time to rest."

"I know your ordeal continues to take its toll. I am gladdened that you have honoured us with your presence this eve." He regards her warmly. "I studied your report on the Civilization; it was thorough and most useful."

"Thank you, my lord. The memories… they've faded. Soon I may remember nothing."

He studies her for a long moment. "Perhaps it is for the best. And please, child, you may go rest at any time you like. But before you retire, I ask that you answer me one question."

"Of course, my lord."

"It concerns the time you spent on the Starfleet vessel," he says. "The captain. I want to know your impression of her."

"Captain Rashid," Lerex replies. "She… I did not know her well. But she was intelligent, and singularly committed to Starfleet ideology." She hesitates, then continues, "She was… haunted. By what had happened to her on this mission, I believe. Shortly after their arrival in the core, she became temporally displaced. Separated from her crew and cast into the past. And there she waited for months, alone on the wreck of her ship. And yet when the time came, she rejoined her crew and continued the mission. It is what drives her. I believe that for her, the mission is all there is."

The Exarch nods. "Then she will be a relentless adversary. Even though they be many times outmatched by our arsenal, we must never underestimate the resourcefulness of the Earthmen." He sits up and smiles at Lerex. "I can see your fatigue. Go, child, and rest. A glorious day awaits you."

She rises to her feet and bows. "Thank you, my lord. Your food, the company, it was… I am unworthy."

He stands up and takes her in a tight embrace. "You are worthy, Lerex. And henceforth, when you are among friends… you may call me D'Tan."

The Centurion stands as well. "I will also attend to my duties," she buzzes, "and instruct my warriors to redouble their watch for any sign of the Starfleet vessel. It was most gratifying to be in your presence, Great One."

The Exarch claps her on the back affectionately, and she bows and follows Lerex to the door leading into the corridor.

As they leave, the Exarch returns to the couch. He wraps his arms around the high shoulders of Upexi's robe, and the Reman leans into his chest.

"The hour is nigh," says the Exarch. "Are you still certain of this plan?"

"We are making a new future for our people," Upexi reassures him. "A better future. One that is more just."

The Exarch gazes at him. "As long as you are there by my side, my beloved."

Upexi leans up and kisses him on the mouth.

* * *

Lerex materializes in the quarters where Alomar is being held. He looks up from configuring a medical tricorder. Noticing her dress, he observes drily, "This isn't the sort of thing one needs to dress up for."

"Are you ready to begin?" she asks, ignoring him.

"Nearly," the haggard doctor replies, returning his attention to his tricorder. "I need to configure the time index to identify all of your memories of your time interfaced with the computer, but no others. Then it's a matter of modeling the processes of memory formation and making the necessary edits. Which should not be too difficult, thanks to the scans of your brain which you so helpfully provided for me." He looks up. "Would you like to hear the standard warning from Starfleet Medical about the potentially addictive nature of selective memory erasure?"

She casts him an icy glare. "My consciousness was annihilated in the computer. I lost who I was completely." There are tears in her eyes. "I came to know that I am nothing."

He eyes her dispassionately. "And you will allow me to contact my ship as soon as the procedure is complete."

"On my honour," she says.

"Very well. We may proceed. Please," he says, gesturing to the hard, narrow bed at one side of the cramped room, "make yourself comfortable. Needless to say, I would prefer to do this in a proper medical facility, but we will make do with what we have."

She lies on the bed, and he uses the tricorder to synthesize a pair of neural interfaces. "I notice you've severely limited the functionality of my tricorder," he says as he places one on her temple.

"A security precaution," she says. Alomar affixes the second interface to the cybernetic implant on her other temple.

"Naturally." He activates the neural interfaces. "Please try to clear your mind. I suggest going backwards through your alphabet."

Lerex's eyes lose focus as Alomar runs a neural scanner over her forehead. After several minutes of work, he removes the devices. "The procedure is complete. Do you remember anything from your time interfaced with the computer?"

She sits up and considers this. "No. Only the anguish I felt afterward. The memories themselves are gone… it is like a dream." Her green eyes peer intently at him. "I will give you access to a comm station. You must keep your conversation brief."

"I understand." She leaves a Romulan datapad on the bed and begins to walk away from him. "One more thing," he says to her. "Where is Pon?"

Her hair shields her face from his sight. "The Exarch has… coerced her into assisting us."

"Is she alright?"

"No." She stands in the center of the room. "And doctor. You should know… I killed Lieutenant Avala."

They stare at each other for a long moment, saying nothing. Then a light blinks on her cybernetic hand, and she dissolves in a green transporter beam.

Alomar sits on the bed, a look of anguish on his face. He takes the padd and touches a symbol on the screen. The screen changes to a series of lines of flowing Romulan script. After a moment, it shifts to the familiar appearance of the captain's ready room on _Icarus_. Rashid is brushing her hair from her eyes, and her face lights up when she sees him. "Tomas! Thank god."

He smiles. "Did I wake you, Zia?"

"No, I was just… resting my head on my desk for a minute." She wipes a strand of drool from her mouth with the back of her hand. "Is Pon with you?"

"I haven't seen her. I don't know what they've done to her, but I believe she is alive." He looks grave. "I heard about Vanda."

Rashid grins. "Vanda is alive, and in fact is doing just fine. Joe Pel is here."

His eyes widen. "Well then. Perhaps I'm not even needed on _Icarus_." They chuckle, then he continues, "I'm being held by a group of Romulan and Reman religious fanatics. Their leader is a man who calls himself the Exarch, and their ship is a heavily modified _D'shrizek_ -class warbird, with a full complement of birds-of-prey and attack raptors. Not long ago, they attacked a world belonging to something called…"

"The Civilization," Rashid says. "Yes, we've had some dealings with them." She leans toward the screen. "Listen, I'm not going to say much over this channel, but we may have some idea of what the Romulans are planning, and it is imperative that we stop them."

"I understand." He lowers his voice. "But I fear I may be executed soon. And if that happens, I want you to pass on to Q'ar that… that I loved him with everything that I am. And to my daughters that I am so proud of the young women they have become…" His voice cracks.

She swallows hard. "I will, Tomas. But for now, I need you with me. We need to disable the SIM drive before the Romulans can use it. History depends on it."

Alomar nods. "I will do what I can, but I'm afraid my options are rather limited at the moment. I was able to convince Lerex to allow me to contact you, but there is very little I can do."

"You may have helped us already." She manages a tight-lipped grin. "The beard is a good look on you."

"Yes, well, I thought I might take this opportunity to give Isaiah a run for his money."

"I'll warn him." She gazes at his image. "Stay alive, Tomas. That's an order."

"Aye, captain. Be careful." After a moment, he ends the transmission.

Rashid dematerializes the viewscreen on her desk, straightens her uniform, and strides out her ready room door onto the bridge, where Uyu, Sparks, and two Strind clusters are standing around a communications console which has been modified by coiling Strind technology.

"Did you trace the signal?" Rashid asks.

Uyu nods. "They make ingenious use of their primitive technology, but it was a relatively simple matter to triangulate their position. We'll be in a position to intercept in ninety-seven minutes."

"Thank you, Uyu." Rashid looks from Sparks to Avala, Sorensen, Rylek, and Joe. "I know this isn't what you expected when you signed up for this mission," she says. "But I want you to know that it has been an absolute privilege to serve with every one of you. What we're about to do is risky. We may not come back from it. But it is our duty as Starfleet officers, and there's no crew I trust more to get it done." She sits in the command chair. "Mr. Rylek, lay in a course to intercept."

"Course laid in, captain," he reports.

"Engage."

 **TO BE CONTINUED**


	11. Chapter 10

"Tellarite."

Pon starts. She looks up from the SIM drive to see the Exarch approaching, flanked by two heavily armoured soldiers with masks. Lerex walks closely behind them, clad in uniform and helmet. "Th… the SIM drive is in… installed," Pon stammers, avoiding eye contact. "W… we can begin the antidilithium re… reaction."

The Exarch glances at the engineers working around Pon and on the gravitationally reversed deck above them, then says to the Tellarite, "Very good. But before we initialize, it is time for you to demonstrate your loyalty." He activates his comm. "Bring him."

There is a green shimmering, and two more soldiers materialize, restraining Alomar between them. "Pon!" the doctor shouts. Pon casts her eyes downward, her face obscured by matted hair.

The Exarch taps a console and the gravity increases beneath Alomar, causing him to fall to his knees. A soldier affixes a small device to Alomar's arm, then they step away from the human.

"What have you done to her?" Alomar demands.

"We have techniques available to Us which exceed even those of the Tal Shiar of old." The Exarch draws a disruptor pistol and places it in Pon's hand. He lifts her arm and aims the gun at Alomar. "Prove your loyalty to Us," he hisses in her ear.

He steps back, and Pon points the pistol at Alomar, a glazed look in her beady eyes.

"Commander," Alomar says urgently, "it's me. It's Tomas. Whatever they've done to you, you need to fight it. Listen to me! Pon!"

"Do it now!" the Exarch shouts.

Pon pulls the trigger, and there is a flash of green light. A split second before the beam hits Alomar, the device on his arm teleports him a few meters to the side. The disruptor carves a hole in the deck behind him.

Alomar opens his eyes, breathing heavily. The Exarch seizes him by the shoulder and pulls him to his feet. "We have long since learned never to waste any potential asset. If your captain finds us, you may prove useful." He gestures to the two soldiers who brought Alomar. "Return him to his quarters and double his guard." The soldiers touch their fists to their chests. One of them removes the device from Alomar's shoulder and affixes it to his own armour, and they take him away. Alomar casts one last contemptuous look between the Exarch and Lerex.

The Exarch takes the gun from Pon's shaking grip. "Have you seen any sign of sabotage in the drive unit's software?" he asks Lerex.

"None, Great One," she replies.

The Exarch faces Pon. "These superspace devices. How many ships does Starfleet have that are equipped with them?"

"Th… they have been working to install them on… on other ships..." Pon's voice shakes.

"And how long will it take those ships to reach our position?"

"From the n… the nearest Starfleet base it would take app… approximately seven weeks, three d… days… thirteen hours, for… forty minutes."

The Exarch stares at the flashing lights of the quantum singularity powering the ship. "That will be her plan," he says to Lerex. "The Earth captain. She will seek to disable our superspace drive before we cross beyond the tachyon threshold, and force us to impulse so that Starfleet can send a fleet to intercept us. We must be prepared." He taps the nearby console. "Bridge. Drop cloak and raise shields. Stand by to transport Us to the bridge." Facing Pon, he says, "Very well, Tellarite. Begin the antidilithium reaction."

She activates a control sequence on the SIM drive. It begins to hum. "Forty seven minutes until… until we can activate the drive…" Pon mumbles.

"Is there any way to increase the speed of the reaction?"

"N… no, Great One," she replies.

"Continue to monitor the reaction." He looks across the engineering deck and sees the chief engineer, fully recovered but maintaining a distance between himself and the Exarch. "You. Watch the Tellarite. Kill her at the first sign of treachery."

The engineer salutes, and the Exarch taps the console again. "Energize."

He, Lerex, and the soldiers vanish. Pon stares at the charred disruptor burn in the deck, her face expressionless.

* * *

 _Captain's log, Stardate 136684.3. We have located the rogue Romulan warbird_ Syrinx _and are moving to intercept. On my authority, we are proceeding with the installation of Civilization technology generated by the Strind; I realize that my decision to equip the ship with alien technology without express approval from the chain of command may be reviewed, but it's my judgment that the objective of protecting the timeline is sufficiently important to necessitate doing this. I'd also like to add that each member of my crew has served with bravery and dedication in the very best tradition of Starfleet._

"How's it going down there, Isaiah?" Rashid asks from the bridge.

In the lower level of engineering, Sparks stands among two clusters of diminutive Strind who are intertwining their coiling black technology with the interface to the shield generator. He taps his combadge. "Not bad, captain. I think we're ready to activate the refractive shield."

"Very good. Stand by." On the bridge, Rashid steeples her fingers and leans forward. "Susan, do we have a probe within sensor range of our position?"

"Aye, captain," Sorensen reports.

"Feed the telemetry through my station." She taps her comm. "Isaiah, I think now is as good a time as any. Activate refractive shield."

Sparks taps a console and activates the shield generator. It hums, and a ghostly glow emanates from the attached Strind modules.

"Seems to be operating within normal parameters," Sparks says.

Rashid examines the probe telemetry projected in front of the command chair. "Impressive. The probe's sensors are showing an indeterminate position for the ship. I'm getting multiple simultaneous readings, none of which are our actual position."

"I recommend periodically remodulating the shields when we encounter the Romulans," Sparks adds. "Should keep their sensors guessing."

"Good work, all of you. Isaiah, please pass on my gratitude to our friends."

Sparks looks at the Strind. "You have our thanks for allowing us to make use of your technology. It makes it much more likely that we'll survive this."

"We are curious to see the outcome of this altercation," one of the clusters says in unison.

"Yeah, me too." He pauses. "I suppose you're not worried about whether we survive."

"The end of our existence in this universe is of no great consequence to us," the aliens reply.

"Well, it is of consequence to me. So let's hope this works."

The Strind peer at him. "We will also optimize your shield output to further increase your chance of survival." Each Strind in the cluster closes its eye, then begins to secrete a black film on its skin. The film thickens and slides to the ground, combining in a pool in the center of the cluster. It seems to slither onto the shield console and solidify into a glowing coil. The hum of the shield generator rises in frequency.

"Your help is much appreciated," Sparks says, "and we will make sure Starfleet knows about this. I hope it can be the start of a mutually beneficial relationship between our peoples." He glances at the various engineering systems which have been altered by Strind technology. "But I've got to let you know that if we rescue our chief engineer, Commander Pon, you are going to have to remove all of this as soon as it's safe to do it. If she sees these modifications, she's likely to become… irate."

One of the clusters blinks in unison. The second does the same.

On the bridge, Rashid approaches the ops console where Uyu sits, leaning back with her legs crossed.

"Your deflector array has been reconfigured to generate tachyon sails in short bursts," Uyu tells her, "allowing you to make micro-corrections to your course as we approach the enemy ship. I've configured an algorithmically based, semi-randomized path which will respond to their targeting systems."

"We'll have to hope they don't get a lucky shot."

"'Lucky?'" Uyu inquires.

"Never mind," Rashid says. "Mr. Rylek, are you ready to work within these parameters?"

The young Vulcan looks nervous. "I believe so, captain. I have been running simulations. It is most unusual, but I believe I can adapt to the modifications."

"I have every confidence that you will, ensign," she tells him. Rylek appears to relax somewhat.

The tactical console beeps. "One of our probes is coming in range of a ship," Avala reports. "It's the Romulans, captain. Their shields are up." She raises an eyebrow. "They're not under cloak."

"The Exarch knows we're coming," Rashid says, returning to the command chair. "And he knows that if we were able to detect them, we could beam the SIM drive off their ship while their shields are lowered. He won't take that risk."

"The probe is coming in sensor range now…" Avala trails off, her eyes wide.

Rashid leans forward. "Is something wrong, lieutenant?"

"No," she replies. "It's just… that is an extremely heavily armed ship."

Rashid nods. "Yes, the Romulans were not messing around when they built the _D'Shrizeks_. We encountered one when I was on the _Enterprise_. We got the shit blasted out of us, and only narrowly escaped."

"Yeah, and it looks like they've incorporated some Dominion technology, and Breen…"

"And Hirogen," the emergency command hologram adds, scowling.

"That is why our plan is to not get shot," Rashid tells her. She turns. "Susan, are you ready?"

"Yes, captain," Sorensen replies. "I've effectively reconfigured the phasers into neutrino emitters. If we can bombard the SIM unit with concentrated neutrino pulses, we can depolarize the antidilithium that powers the drive and cause it to degrade. The neutrinos will pass through their shields and hull, but we'll have to use pulses instead of a beam because otherwise they'll be able to triangulate our position. It, um… it unfortunately means we won't be able to use the phasers."

Avala looks gravely at the tactical readout. "I don't think our phasers would make much difference against that ship anyway."

Rashid looks at Sorensen with concern. "I realize this can't be easy for you, given your experience with the Exarch."

"It's alright, captain," Sorensen says, meeting Rashid's gaze. "Under no circumstances can that man be allowed to travel into the past with that ship."

"If I may, captain," Joe interjects. "According to the tactical database in my emergency command subroutines, Romulan ships' ventral sensors are approximately fifteen percent less effective than their lateral and dorsal sensors." He frowns. "Or, I suppose, they were eighty years ago, when the tactical database in my emergency command subroutines was last updated."

"Thank you, Joe," Rashid says warmly. "We'll try to stay low."

Uyu glances at Joe, who is stationed next to her. "I find this whole situation so fascinating," she says.

Joe peers at the alien woman. "You're in no actual danger, are you?"

She smiles grimly. "Believe me. If it was so easy for me to end this existence, I would not be here right now."

There is a tone from the helm. Rylek announces, "We are coming in range."

"Any sign that they've detected us?" Rashid asks.

"None, captain," Sparks replies. "Refractive shield operating within normal parameters."

Rashid clutches the arm of the captain's chair tightly. "On my mark."

The parameters of the tachyon sail shift, and _Icarus_ changes its trajectory. Ahead of it in the warp stream, the _Syrinx_ streaks forward though the flashing lights of warp speed, a vast sail extending from its six massive, forward-sweeping wings.

On the bridge of the _Syrinx_ , the Exarch gazes intently at the viewscreen's representation of the streaking starscape behind them.

Upexi crosses the bridge and stands at the Exarch's side. "You still believe the Earthmen will come for us?"

The Exarch sighs. ""She is there. Somewhere. I feel it." To an officer at a nearby station, he says, "Maintain your vigil. Make a full transpectral scan of our surroundings."

"Yes, Great One," the Reman officer buzzes.

The Exarch begins to pace again around the bridge, passing consoles where Lerex and the Centurion work. He glances at a set of Romulan numerals near the bottom corner of the viewscreen showing a unit of time corresponding to approximately twenty minutes, counting down. "Is there any news from Engineering?" he asks Upexi in a low voice.

"None," the Viceroy replies. "The reaction proceeds steadily."

The Exarch turns away from the viewscreen and faces the platforms surrounding the bridge, where Romulans and Remans watch his actions with rapt attention. Some are deep in prayer. "The end of this phase of our holy pilgrimage is nearly complete," he addresses them in a loud voice projected over the intercom. "At last, we have nearly reached the anomaly. Beyond it, we cannot know what we will encounter. We will be a people out of time, cast into the world of our grandfathers and grandmothers. Perhaps they will mistrust us. But our will is inexorable. We will show them how to save our people from calamity." He pauses. "Not too soon for us to see the stars of home."

The onlookers begin to sing a reverential hymn, the differing timbres of Reman and Romulan voices creating complex textures.

The Exarch turns to Upexi. "Prepare to…"

He is interrupted by a klaxon. The Reman sensors officer looks alarmed. "It is the Earthmen!"

 _Icarus_ sails along the tachyon stream toward the _Syrinx_. The tiny Starfleet vessel darts around the massive warbird, matching its trajectory momentarily to fire a neutrino burst from its phaser array, then disintegrating its tachyon collector and generating one at a different angle to change its path.

"All weapons," the Exarch shouts. "Fire!"

The torpedo bays on the exterior of the warbird begin to fire in all directions, their sensors locking on to phantom signatures.

"I cannot triangulate their position!" the sensor officer cries as several images of _Icarus_ appear on the viewscreen of the _Syrinx_. The details of the ships are blurred and indistinct as they flit around the ship. Then they appear to move beyond one of the starboard wings of the _Syrinx_.

Upexi looks up from a nearby console. "They are attempting to bombard the superspace device with neutrinos."

"Why?" the Exarch demands. He returns to his command chair and taps the comm on the armrest. "Tellarite. This is your master speaking. What is the object of this neutrino bombardment?"

In Engineering, under the baleful glare of the Romulan chief engineer, Pon examines the data stream on the SIM unit's interface panel. "They… they are trying to depolarize the antidilithium before… before the reaction is complete."

"Have they succeeded?"

"Not… yet…" Pon stares at the data with wide eyes, then begins to chuckle uncontrollably.

"Then she will be back again," the Exarch says. He strides across the bridge to Lerex. "What technology is this, that confounds Our sensors and frustrates Our wrath?" he demands.

"I do not know!" she says anxiously. "I told you about their stealth technology, but it was not like this!"

The Exarch steps back. "It is the Civilization. They seek to avenge their world, and now conspire with Starfleet to thwart Us."

"They return!" the sensor officer calls.

Outside the _Syrinx_ , _Icarus_ weaves between tachyon streams, firing targeted neutrino bursts through the shields and hull of the behemoth.

A torpedo explodes off _Icarus_ ' starboard bow, and the light illuminates the bridge as the shock wave causes it to shudder.

"Damage report," Rashid calls out, clutching the armrests of the command chair tightly.

"A near miss," the computer replies. "Refractive shields are holding."

From the tactical console, Avala announces, "They're taking evasive action."

"They think they can fool my algorithm," Uyu says with derision.

"Steady as she goes, Mr. Rylek," Rashid says.

"Captain," Sorensen says urgently from the science station. "We're approaching the chroniton ring. I'm reading intense tachyon flux ahead."

"Steady." Rashid's voice is level as the ship lurches from position to position around the warbird. A torpedo explodes near the ship's prow, casting her face in green light. "Have we depolarized their antidilithium supply yet?"

Sorensen struggles to keep her breathing under control as she grips the science console with both hands. "Not yet. The reaction is still in progress. I'd estimate we only have four or five minutes, maximum."

"We don't have much time," Rashid says. ""Mr. Rylek, prepare to move in on the Romulan vessel."

The ship flies in an arc underneath the wings of the _Syrinx_ , dropping its sail momentarily and falling back to a relative position behind the warbird.

"Great One," the Centurion calls from a console on the _Syrinx_ bridge. "One of my gunners reports visual contact with the enemy ship."

The Exarch strides to her side. "Tell them to destroy it immediately!"

"Their movements are erratic," the Centurion reports. "They held their trajectory for less than two seconds." She pauses. "A raptor could more easily follow their path."

"The antidilithium reaction is nearly complete. Our raptors will not be able to return to the _Syrinx_ after we engage it, and We will require every squadron for what is to come."

"With greatest respect, my liege," she replies, "only one raptor will be needed."

He regards the wiry Reman. "The raptor will have to be piloted manually. Your journey will end. Your eyes will never gaze upon the beauty of our worlds."

She bows her head. "I understand. Allow me to do this. I can be spaceborne in moments."

He puts his hands on the Centurion's arms. "Then go, with the blessing of the Twin-Masked One. Your story will echo across universes."

"Tell it to me when I am born into the world you create, so that I may strive to live up to that legacy."

There is a klaxon. "The antidilithium is almost completely depolarized," Upexi calls to the Exarch.

"Go now," he says to the Reman. "My friend."

The Centurion bows her head. A transporter beam dematerializes her in a shimmer of green.

The Exarch turns toward the viewscreen. "Drop the ship out of warp," he commands.

Upexi turns, surprised. "We are still within the tachyon streams. Vulnerable to our enemies' attack."

"The Earth captain will not relent," the Exarch replies. "Even if we move beyond the streams, she will pursue us at impulse. Only the superspace drive will allow us to escape them. Drop sail now, that we may buy ourselves precious seconds to complete the reaction."

The vast tachyon membrane in front of the _Syrinx_ dissolves, and the stars around the warbird become still as it drops to sublight speed. Within a split second, _Icarus_ drops out of warp ahead of it.

Rashid lurches forward in her chair and looks around at the starscape. "Why have we dropped to impulse?"

"The Romulans have dropped out of warp," the computer tells her. "I've matched their trajectory."

The six-winged warship looms in the viewscreen, firing its disruptors at false readings of _Icarus_.

"How close are we to depolarizing their antidilithium reserves?" she asks.

"It shouldn't take much more, captain," Sorensen replies.

Rashid looks intently at the _Syrinx_. "Alright then. Same as before, Mr. Rylek. Stay with him. Let's end this."

A burst of disruptor fire tears through the space near their position, and the computer activates a tachyon sail for a fraction of a section so that they jump out of its path.

"We are coming within range," Rylek announces from the helm.

"Fire," Rashid commands.

Avala's eyes widen and her antennae straighten. "Captain, there's –"

For a moment, they glimpse a small, jet-black craft with two claw-like wings sweep into their field of vision. Then there is a blinding flash of green light as _Icarus_ is bombarded by a salvo of transphasic torpedoes. The explosions tear past the refractive shielding and rip holes in the ship's hull. The deflector array is shattered as a large section of _Icarus_ ' stern section is pulverized into twisted debris.

Rashid, Sorensen, and Avala are thrown from their chairs while Uyu and Rylek manage to cling to their consoles. Joe rushes to Rashid's side, medical tricorder in hand, and scans a cut on her temple as she crawls to her feet.

"Helm! Hard over!" She shouts. "Torpedoes, fire!"

As Avala returns to her seat, the computer fires a spread of torpedoes at the raptor banks hard to avoid their explosions.

Rashid taps her combadge. "Isaiah, are you alright?"

In the engineering bay, Sparks rushes through plasma fires and wrecked Starfleet and Strind technology as gas rushes from a broken ventilation duct. He kneels beneath the crushed body of a Strind. "I'm alright, captain, but we have casualties." He looks up at the darkened warp core, which is punctured by a jagged piece of bulkhead. "It's a good thing the core is powered down."

"Get up to the bridge. I'm sending Joe to tend to the wounded."

"Aye, captain."

"The warbird is going to warp!" Avala reports as a sail materializes in front of the _Syrinx_. It seems to elongate, then vanishes in a flash.

"Follow them!" Rashid says urgently. The matter projectors create a sail, and _Icarus_ shoots to warp. The raptor follows suit, firing torpedoes which explode around _Icarus_.

Sorensen brushes her tangled blond hair from her eyes. "The neutrino emitters are offline!"

"Computer, prioritize repair of the neutrino emitters," Rashid orders.

"I'm already using the matter projectors for the tachyon membrane," the computer protests. "I can only get you twenty percent repair rate."

"Do it!" Rashid shouts. The ship begins to shudder violently as they enter the dense, convoluted tachyon streams surrounding the dust-shrouded chroniton ring forming a vast perimeter around the distant anomaly.

Uyu frowns. "Hang on. I'm compensating for these rapids." She enters a command into her console, and the matter projectors' sail generation pattern changes, allowing _Icarus_ to weave through the invisible streams in the dull grey dust while the Romulan ships struggle against the countervailing forces.

"Divert all available projector capacity to the neutrino emitters," Rashid says as Sparks enters from the turbolift door and takes an unattended station.

"Emitters online in thirty seconds," the computer announces.

"They're passing beyond the tachyon stream," Sorensen reports. "Dropping to impulse."

"Stay on them," Rashid says.

Uyu glances at her. "If you go beyond the River, you'll be stranded at sublight with those ships. There will be no escape for you."

"There will be no escape for them," she replies. "Target the warbird with all available neutrino emitters and fire on my mark."

"Target laid in," Avala says. "Dropping to sublight now."

 _Icarus_ emerges from the maelstrom of dust into an empty space lit by stars. The Exarch watches them intently from the bridge of the _Syrinx_.

Upexi steps to his side. "The reaction is complete."

The Exarch continues to stare at the approaching Starfleet vessel.

"Out of time, captain," he says ruefully. "Activate the superspace drive."

There is a hum, and the interior nacelles within the ship's wings glow green. Then it shoots to warp.

A silence falls over the bridge of _Icarus_ as they watch the _Syrinx_ vanish.

"They're gone," Sorensen whispers.

Then the ship is rocked by explosions as the raptor unloads a salvo of torpedoes which blast _Icarus_ ' lower starboard nacelle to pieces.

"Full astern!" Rashid shouts. "Get us back to the tachyon stream!"

 _Icarus_ spins and speeds toward the dust cloud, leaving a trail of blue plasma residue from the broken nacelle. The black raptor continues to harry them, carving at their hull with disruptor fire faster than the matter projectors can repair it.

"Captain," Rylek says through gritted teeth, "I believe I may be able to evade them, if Lieutenant Avala is prepared…"

"Anything you've got, Rylek, by all means!" Rashid replies urgently.

With a glance at Avala, Rylek cuts the impulse engine and activates the ventral thrusters, causing the ship to spin end over end in a 180 degree arc. Anticipating Rylek's manoeuvre, Avala fires a spread of torpedoes. One of them explodes in close proximity to the raptor, knocking it off course as Rylek reactivates the impulse engines at maximum.

"That did it," Sorensen announces. "They won't intercept us before we reach the tachyon stream."

"That's not much use if we can't stop the Exarch from changing history," Rashid says.

After a moment of tense silence, Uyu rolls her pupilless eyes and stands up. "There is another way, you know."

Rashid faces her. "What do you mean?"

"You've been keyed by the Deepborn to use their technology. It can transport us from here to Locus. Or anywhere in between."

"Their technology?" she replies.

"It's all around us."

Rashid begins to question this, but stops herself. "And it can get us aboard the warbird? Through their shields?"

"Yes. You, me, and Isaiah. And Joe as well, I suppose, if we store his program in one of your devices." She folds her arms. "But I should warn you, captain, that to get there, we have to go Out. Which you might find a bit… disconcerting."

"We'll do whatever it takes," Rashid says. She stands and walks to the tactical console. "Lieutenant, you are to take _Icarus_ and set a course for Federation space. Tell them to mobilize a fleet as soon as possible to intercept the Exarch. We will board his ship and destroy the SIM unit."

Avala meets Rashid's gaze. "There could be an army over there."

Uyu looks on, bemused. "Well, you have me," she interjects.

"Get the ship to safety," Rashid tells Avala. "That's an order."

Avala nods. "I will."

Rashid steps back and taps her combadge. "Rashid to Dr. Pel."

"Go ahead," the doctor replies from engineering, where he kneels next to an injured Strind.

"Joe, I've got a tactical assignment for you."

Joe uses a cellular regenerator to heal his patient's plasma burns. "Not the sort of thing one normally asks of the elderly. But I accept."

"Meet me on the bridge. I'll transport you to the database of my tricorder."

"Understood, captain. I'll be there momentarily."

He regenerates the scaly yellow skin of the Strind. Behind him, the sole survivor of one cluster joins hands with another cluster comprised of three Strind. After a moment, the newcomer blinks in unison with the others in the cluster.

Joe transfers himself to the bridge. Rashid and Sparks each hold a phaser rifle and wear black and red tactical armour. Uyu waves her hand and her crystal veil over her eyes disappears.

"I've prepared a tactical update for you to download," Rashid tells Joe.

"Downloading now." Joe is silent for a moment. "We're transporting to the enemy ship?"

"Using Civilization technology," Uyu tells him. "We just need to step outside this universe for a moment."

Rashid looks between Avala, Rylek, and Sorensen. "Look, I… I hope you know. It's been an honour to serve with each of you."

Avala nods as Rylek looks on stoically. Sorensen struggles to keep her breathing in check.

A klaxon sounds, and Avala checks the tactical console. " _A'vai'iil_ ," she swears in Andorian. "It's the raptor."

"We'd better go now," Rashid says as the doctor downloads himself into her tricorder. "Are you ready, Isaiah?"

He nods. "Ready, captain."

She turns to Uyu. "Do it."

Then Uyu, Rashid, and Sparks dissolve into wisps of particles.

There is a flash as the raptor's disruptors pound _Icarus_ ' hull. Avala looks between Sorensen and Rylek. "You heard what she said. We need to get a message to Starfleet."

Rylek pilots the ship deeper into the swirls of dust surrounding the chroninton ring. "Do you believe they will succeed in disabling the SIM unit?"

"I hope so," she replies. "For the sake of the timeline."

* * *

 _Sparks opens his eyes._

 _He is in a barn made of old wood planks. Bright sunlight shines through spaces between the boards. There is music coming from somewhere; a waltz played on ancient acoustic instruments and synthesizers. In his arms is Uyu. They are dancing._

 _"I recognize this place from my hometown on Earth. Where are we?" he asks. "Have we left the universe?"_

 _"You're in_ a _universe," Uyu tells him. "I thought that if I brought you here, it would be a little easier for you."_

 _"Where's the captain?"_

 _"Don't worry, she'll be fine." She presses her body close to his as they sway to the music. "You said you thought you could love me if we had more time. What if I gave us that time?"_

 _He frowns. "The mission…"_

 _"Don't worry. We've left that spacetime continuum. Time won't pass while we're here." She looks up into his eyes. "Do you want to know what it would be like?"_

 _He looks down at her. "Yeah. I do."_

 _She smiles as they step to the beat. "I'm glad to hear that. But to really know," she says as he spins her to the beat, "you'll have to… forget."_

 _He pulls her back close to him. Now there are more people around them, and she has the appearance of a dark-skinned human woman with a small afro and a blue Starfleet uniform, wearing black lipstick with a thin white stripe down the center of her lips._

 _"Forget what?" Sparks asks._

 _"I forget your name," she says. "What was it again? I know you told me."_

 _"Isaiah. You?"_

 _"Uyu."_

 _They spin in slow circles among the other dancers. "I like your lipstick."_

 _"Thanks. It reminds me of where I'm from."_

 _"And where's that?"_

 _"Far away."_

 _"Well, welcome to the homeworld, Uyu," he says._

 _"Thanks. I was just posted here last week. I've always wanted to spend time on Earth."_

 _"Well, you're in luck. I'm between deployments right now." He smiles wryly. "Maybe I can show you around."_

 _"Mm. Maybe you can."_

 _Uyu and Sparks spin again on the floor. Now he is wearing a tailored suit and she a white dress. On their hands are matching wedding rings._

 _"Have I ever mentioned that you're a great dancer?" she asks._

 _"Once or twice," he smiles._

 _She pulls close to him. Their clothing changes again to a more loose-fitting, casual style, and he can feel a bulge in her stomach pressing against him._

 _"Ugh," she says. "I can't believe you convinced me to do this. I can barely move, let alone dance."_

 _He grins. "I have a feeling we're not going to have more dates like this for a while once the baby is born."_

 _"I cannot wait to get this tiny human out of me," Uyu grumbles. "But then, I'm scared shitless to be a parent."_

 _"Yeah. Me too. But hey, we're explorers. We'll find a way."_

 _There are signs of grey beginning to show in Sparks' beard now, and there are lines in Uyu's face from smiling. A small hand tugs on her skirt, and they look down to see a child with frizzy hair and bright eyes._

 _"Mommy! Mommy!"_

 _Uyu smiles wearily at Sparks. "Someday we'll get away for real. I promise." She looks down at the child. "Daddy and I are dancing, Jocelyn. We'll be with you in a minute."_

 _"I want to dance with you."_

 _Sparks and Uyu glance at each other, and he smirks. "Okay," he says as he and Uyu each take one of the child's hands. "This is a waltz, Jossie," he says to his daughter. "Do you remember any of the steps I taught you?"_

 _"Mm-hmm," she replies. Then she begins to twirl, stumbling in her exaggerated movements._

 _"She has good rhythm," Sparks says to Uyu. Now his beard is thick and bushy, and fully grey. "I've always said that."_

 _Uyu peers through the other dancers at the stage at the end of the barn, where Jocelyn, now tall and lanky, is playing electric bass with a group of other teenagers. "She does." She presses herself close to Sparks again. "This is nice. I can't remember the last time we went dancing."_

 _He gazes at her lovingly. "Yeah. And I haven't seen you wear that lipstick in a while. Does it still remind you of where you're from?"_

 _"I think I've mostly forgotten," she replies as they sway to the beat. "But it's alright. I'm glad to be here with you."_

 _Then the song ends, and they are once again alone in the barn. His beard is black again, and he is clad in Starfleet tactical gear. She is wearing a silver bodysuit and her skin has returned to the original black and white. Her hair is gone._

 _"The song is over," she says. "We should join your captain on the fringer ship."_

 _Sparks blinks. A look of confusion on his face changes to one of horror._

 _"Oh my god," he says. "The mission. But… the last seventeen years. What was that?"_

 _"You said you wanted to know what it would be like." She smiles, but the usual mischievous quality has been replaced by resignation._

 _"My god. Jocelyn!"_

 _"Come on," she says as their surroundings begin to fade to black. "It's time for us to go."_

 _Sparks blinks. "And the captain…?"_

 _"I'm sure she's alright."_

* * *

 _Rashid is alone._

 _She cannot see anything around her, but she has the feeling that she is on a stage. That she is being watched by an audience, but does not know her lines._

 _"Hello?" she calls. Her voice is echoed in near-unison by countless other voices. She steps forward, and is surrounded by millions of interlocking semi-corporeal figures. Some of them seem to be versions of her, but there are others. For a moment, she sees Lerex. She is wearing an unfamiliar Romulan uniform and her cybernetic implants are gone._

 _Then Rashid sees Sparks among other officers she does not recognize. Their eyes lock for a moment and they approach each other. She reaches out to him, but her hand becomes enmeshed in a membrane of mycelial strands. She becomes aware of the bioneural network around her, which seems to extend in every direction and to overlap on itself, separating the multiplicity of her selves around her._

 _She feels herself being drawn into the mycelium. Her body appears to dissolve, but she is aware that it is in fact the dissolution of her consciousness into the meta-consciousness of the mycelium. It contains within it a seemingly infinite number of discrete lives, and she realizes they are nodes by which it perceives the infinite possibilities within itself._

 _Then her perception is drawn beyond the mycelial organism, and she becomes aware of a multitude of similar life-forms around it, forming a complex ecosystem. She becomes aware of sentient beings existing within this environment, but their existence is so far removed from her experience that she cannot determine any of their characteristics._

 _She continues to be pulled outward, seemingly in all directions, and she begins to perceive the beings around her to be like cells in a vast macro-organism, which in turn forms a tiny part of an even greater entity. As it moves further and further from her comprehension, she seems to lose all sense of self until she experiences her consciousness as merely a momentary burst of electrochemical energy in an infinite universe, flaring for only an instant and then vanishing beyond memory._

 _She opens her eyes again. She is back on a stage, sitting in a weathered chair next to a small wooden table. There is vase on the table containing a single orchid, purple and black in colour. Opposite her on the stage is an identical chair. Uyu is seated in it, wearing a faded red dress. The black and white of her skin appears to Rashid to be crudely applied makeup, and she becomes aware of the heavy stage makeup on her own face._

These costumes look like shit _, she thinks to herself._ I need to have a talk with the director.

 _Uyu is smirking. "So I'm spending my time with fringers now?"_

 _She glances into the darkness beyond the stage and senses the anticipation of the audience, and struggles to remember her lines. "What are you?" she asks Uyu._

 _"You know me. At least, the part of me that went In."_

 _Rashid peers at her. "You're the Archetype."_

 _She chuckles, and a wave of muted laugher ripples through the audience. "It amuses me that you think you understand me."_

 _Rashid tries to avoid looking in the direction of the audience, and fights to control the blinding terror welling up within her. "I need to go back," she says in a practiced stage articulation. "I have to stop the Romulans from changing history."_

 _There are roars of laughter from the audience. Grinning, Uyu leans forward. "You still don't understand," she says, touching the bloom of the orchid with her index finger. "Even now that you've seen it from this perspective. Why would you, I suppose."_

 _Rashid looks at the flower. "That's how it grows, isn't it? By us creating new timelines."_

 _More uproarious laughter. Rashid is gripped by a jolt of deep anxiety, but her face is a steady neutral._

 _"I love the way you time-bound beings are so quick to ascribe causality where none exists," Uyu says. "You think you're the protagonist. You're really just a setpiece."_

 _There is riotous applause, which stops suddenly as Uyu leans forward and whispers to Rashid, "Do you really want to go back In?"_

 _"Yes," she replies in a clear voice. "I have to complete my mission."_

 _As she says the words, the applause erupts again, even louder this time, and she can tell that the audience is on their feet._

 _Uyu glances at her with a knowing satisfaction Rashid has seen on the faces of her castmates in hundreds of successful performances. "Well, it's easy to go In," she tells Rashid as the curtain lowers in front of them. "You just go In. You know the path. Go boldly."_

 _Darkness overtakes Rashid again, and the sights and sounds around her disintegrate. She sees a network of diverging paths ahead of her. They pass through the Romulan warship, and some end while others continue to stretch on, deeper into the Galactic Core. They wind through time and space, between the densely clustered stars of the Core until they converge into a single end point, a great singularity. Rashid recognizes it as the supermassive black hole Sagittarius A*, and can feel the pull of its immense mass which bends time and space around it._

 _She steps forward along the path, fighting against a deep terror. Her surroundings begin to coalesce into definition. She perceives the greys and greens of the interior of the Romulan vessel._

 _She casts her attention once more to the black hole where her paths end. Then her perception begins to warp and twist._

* * *

Rashid opens her eyes. She is in an empty corridor in the relatively dim light of the Romulan warship. Sparks is next to her, a bewildered look on his face. Uyu is standing next to him, with an expression of deep sadness.

Rashid's stomach clenches, and she drops to her knees and vomits on the deck. Tears well in her eyes. After a moment, she regains her composure and stands.

"Come on," she says to them. "We don't have much time."

 **TO BE CONCLUDED...**


	12. Chapter 11

**Romulus, 2368**

"D'Tan."

The boy looks up from the weathered Vulcan text he is reading. Spock is climbing the hill, lit by the setting sun.

"Teacher," D'Tan says in heavily accented Vulcan.

"May I join you?" Spock asks.

"Of course."

Spock bends to sit next to D'Tan on the grassy hillside, wincing as he sits. "I am not as young as I once was." He eyes the book. "What are you reading?"

"Surak's discourse on the sundering of our peoples," D'Tan replies.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "An informative, if sometimes troubling work."

"He is angry," D'Tan says. "I can feel his anger."

"Yes, the text does at times appear to contravene some of Surak's own precepts. For that reason, it is often recommended that initiates to Surak's thought approach that particular text after gaining some appreciation for the context. In this case, an apocalyptic war that claimed eight billion lives, including many of his initiates and closest friends."

"I feel anger," he says, his voice shaking. "Against our persecutors. Those who took my parents. I feel rage." Tears well up in his eyes. "I want to destroy them, blood for blood. And then I want to destroy myself."

Spock looks at D'Tan compassionately. "I know. That rage is something our peoples share in common."

D'Tan looks up at him desperately. "Can I ever make it stop?"

"Unfortunately, it never truly disappears," Spock tells him. "But in time, you can learn to just… sit alongside it. Understand its logic, but not allowing your actions to be guided by it."

D'Tan gazes at the sunlit field below them. There is a small village at the edge of the lake. The buildings are lit orange by the dying sunlight. Their reflection ripples in the still waters.

"It is not only this murderous regime that I despise," he says in a low voice. "It is them. Ordinary Romulans, going about their business. Silently acquiescing to the gross injustices all around them. I hate them. How can I not let that guide my actions?"

"To overcome one's emotions is perhaps the greatest challenge of life. I myself continue to struggle with it every day. But consider first principles. What is the most optimal situation for which we should strive?"

"The maximum level of well-being for all sentient life-forms, individually and collectively." D'Tan looks at him steadily. "But they are not deserving of well-being. They should be punished for their complicity."

"Perhaps so. But for the sake of the Romulan people, there must be some recognition given to the fact that it is logical for them to act the way they do, given their social environment. This does not absolve responsibility, but acknowledges that true change on Romulus must be accompanied by a willingness to forgive." He pauses. "And if it does not start with us, where does it begin?"

D'Tan stares at the sunset, saying nothing. The last rays of the sun cast purple light across the tranquil lake.

* * *

 **Galactic Core, 2459**

Amid a dense cloud of grey-brown dust, so deep that the starlight of the Core is a dull glow, a sleek black starfighter travels at warp. Inside the cockpit, the Centurion makes minor corrections to the configuration of the translucent tachyon membrane pulling the ship between the thick black clouds. Her eyes scan the dim nebula surrounding her, fixating on a faint trail of pale blue plasma.

She adjusts her raptor's course to hew close to the plasma trail. The pale green light of the cockpit illuminates her vampiric features as she focuses her sensors on the sensor trail, searching in vain for a ship in the dust storms ahead.

The trail leads deep into the heart of a particularly dense cloud. The Centurion arms the raptor's forward disruptors.

Then she frowns, and makes an abrupt adjustment to the tachyon sail. As she banks away, she catches a glimpse of a Starfleet shuttlecraft at the end of the plasma stream. A klaxon sounds in the cockpit of the ship, and the shuttle explodes. The shockwave scatters the surrounding dust.

Avala watches the explosion from the bridge of _Icarus_.

"Bring us in, Rylek," she says, her voice steely. "Maximum impulse."

Next to her, Sorensen slams her open palms on the science console. "Shit. We didn't get him. He's… I can't find him!"

Avala's antennae point at her. "Susan, I need a target!"

Sorensen frantically adjusts the sensor parameters. "He must be cloaked… I'm configuring the sensors to detect negative spaces in the dust…" Her eyes widen. "Oh my god, he's right on top of us."

"Rylek, get us out of here!" Avala shouts. She fires a pair of transphasic torpedoes as Rylek activates the tachyon sail.

The raptor's disruptors detonate the torpedoes prematurely. It streaks through the explosion and strafes _Icarus_ ' battered stern section with disruptor fire, severing the cords that connect the tachyon sail.

"Taking evasive action," Rylek says as the ship shudders under the Centurion's onslaught.

Avala fires another spread of three torpedoes, but the raptor does a barrel roll to dodge them, still raking _Icarus_ with fire.

"He's too fast!" Avala exclaims. "I can't get a lock!"

Sorensen looks over her shoulder out the rear face of the viewscreen, watching with horror as the raptor bears down on them, shattering a second nacelle with disruptor fire. The ship shakes again, and she clutches the science station. She struggles not to hyperventilate, focusing on the information displayed on the sensor readout.

"Okay," she says, her voice shaking. "The pilot is a Reman. Which means… wait! Computer! Do we still have secondary deflector control?"

"Barely," the computer says.

"Configure it to emit a multiphasic tetryon pulse!"

"What are you doing?" Avala asks. Sorensen opens her mouth, but Avala interrupts her. "Never mind, I trust you! Just do it!"

"Activating!" Sorensen announces.

A small deflector dish embedded in _Icarus_ ' aft stern section fires a pale white pulse into the dust.

The dusty space is suddenly illuminated by a flash of brilliant white light. In the cockpit of the raptor, the Centurion shields her light-sensitive eyes and banks the fighter away from the flash.

Silence falls over the bridge of _Icarus_. "Reactivating tachyon membrane," Rylek says.

Then the ship jumps to warp, followed closely by the raptor.

* * *

The Exarch strides across the engineering bay, followed closely by Lerex and four armoured guards. A crackling light flashes from within the transparent sphere containing the forced quantum singularity, causing the deck to shudder.

"Report!" he shouts.

The chief engineer looks up from his console. "Great One, the singularity has become unstable! Verterons within the superspace field are causing it to degrade. If it collapses, we will be destroyed in the implosion!"

Across the workspace, Pon begins to cackle maniacally.

The Exarch approaches her. "Do you find this amusing, Tellarite?" he bellows.

"I told you it would be incompatible!" she shrieks.

"Stabilize the singularity," he commands. "Now."

Pon continues to laugh. "It can't be stopped now! You've doomed your entire ship. You should have listened to me! You should –"

He seizes her face with an outstretched hand. His fingers grip her temples roughly. He scowls as Pon's body shakes. Her eyes roll up into her head and she drops to the ground, motionless.

The Exarch points at the chief engineer. "Stabilize the singularity. You are authorized to take any measure short of deactivating the superspace drive."

"My lord," the Romulan protests, "as long as we maintain the superspace field, the singularity will continue to degrade!"

"Are you certain that you can reinitialize the drive after it has been powered down?"

The engineer pauses for a moment. "No, my lord. The antidilithium has been heavily depolarized."

"Then the drive remains online. We must move beyond Starfleet's range to intercept us." The engineer touches his fist to his chest and bows his head, and the Exarch turns to his guards. "Remain in engineering to ensure that Our command is followed." He glances at Pon's motionless body. "And have your men execute the Earthman doctor. We have no further use of him."

The Reman soldier bows his head and salutes. The Exarch turns to Lerex. "Interface with the Starfleet device and search for a solution."

"I will execute your command, my lord," Lerex replies.

"Of that I have no doubt, my child." The Exarch regards her warmly. "Computer. One to transport to the bridge."

* * *

Phaser rifles in hand, Rashid and Sparks advance warily down an empty corridor of the _Syrinx_. Rashid checks her tricorder, then gives the all clear. The two officers cross the corridor and crouch for a moment in a secluded niche. Uyu walks behind them, a dazed look on her face.

"So," Rashid says as she manipulates a control on her tricorder. "What did you see?"

Sparks blinks and shakes his head. "I saw… my life. I was on Earth. With Uyu, but she was a human. She was my wife. We, um…" He trails off. "It's been seventeen years since I've seen you, captain. I'm good for the mission, but I'm going to need some time to process this one. What did you see?"

"I saw what we need to do," Rashid replies. She taps the tricorder, and the doctor materializes next to them.

"Good," the hologram says. "We made it. Are you alright?"

Sparks and Rashid exchange a glance. "We're fine," the captain says. "We need to –"

She is interrupted by a loud bang. The ship rocks so hard that they are nearly thrown to the deck.

Sparks opens his tricorder. His eyes widen. "I'm reading massive energy fluctuations from the quantum singularity that powers the ship."

"Yes," Rashid says. "Using the superspace drive is causing the singularity to decay. If it collapses, it's going to take the entire ship with it." She faces Uyu. "You can stabilize it."

Uyu eyes her. "Look at you. It looks like you learned something while you were Out. But you do realize that if this ship is destroyed, you don't have to worry about them travelling to the past."

"There are over four hundred thousand people on this ship," Rashid says. "They're all going to die unless we can deactivate the drive. Commander, Uyu, go to main engineering and try to destroy the SIM unit. Joe, I've found where they're holding Tomas. Get him out, and then head to engineering. But be careful – if they detect you, they'll put up a dampening field to deactivate you."

"What about you?" Joe asks.

She looks between Joe, Sparks, and Uyu. "The bridge. I'm going to talk to the Exarch. I know there's a possibility I can reason with him."

"How do you know that?" Sparks asks.

"I… saw things. While I was Out."

"The future?"

"Not quite. I saw paths. Possibilities." She lowers her voice. "Be careful down there. The Exarch's elite guards are there. And Lerex."

He nods. "Understood. Good hunting."

"You too, Isaiah."

* * *

"On your feet, Earthman."

Groggily, Alomar opens his eyes and sits up on the hard bed. Two Romulan soldiers are entering his quarters, armed with disruptor pistols.

"So," he says. "It's time, is it?"

The Romulans draw their disruptor pistols. "Do you have any last words, human?" one of the soldiers asks.

"Not for you."

Alomar stands and stares disdainfully at them. They train their weapons on him.

Then the door hisses open. A deep, booming voice thunders, "Stop!"

The soldiers turn, then fall to their knees. "Exarch!"

"Yes," the tall Romulan says as he enters the room. "I am the Exarch. Give me a weapon, so that I may end this pathetic human myself."

Alomar watches in silence as one of the soldiers offers his pistol to the Exarch, who examines it and presses a control on the side. Then he fires twice, and the two kneeling Romulans collapse to the deck.

"I wasn't sure whether Romulan weapons had a stun setting." The Exarch flickers, and his appearance changes.

"Dr. Pel!" Alomar exclaims. "I am very pleased to see you."

"The pleasure is mine, doctor," Joe replies cheerily. "We've met, haven't we?"

"Yes, at the conference on Betazed a few years ago. Zia introduced us."

"Ah yes, I remember that." Joe crouches, takes a pistol from one of the stunned soldiers, and hands it to Alomar. "We need to get to engineering and rendezvous with Commander Sparks."

"He's here?" Alomar asks incredulously. "How?"

"It's a long story. But it's imperative that we disable the SIM drive."

Alomar grins. "Damn it. We're doctors, not saboteurs."

"My thoughts exactly. But unfortunately, it's up to us to save history."

He holds his disruptor with both hands. "Very well then, doctor. Lead the way."

* * *

Propelled by its tachyon membrane _, Icarus_ sails through the dust nebula, weaving unpredictably as the raptor's disruptor fire closes in.

"Take us deeper," Avala says urgently to Rylek. To Sorensen, "You said there's a chroniton stream at the center of this cloud? What is that going to do to us?"

"I have no idea. I'm sorry – we've never encountered anything like this before."

"There will be a time differential effect," five voices say in unison as Strind Cluster Ch'akak appears on the bridge. "One that you can use to your advantage."

Avala peers at the aliens. "How?"

One of the Strind approaches an unoccupied station. It closes its eye and secretes a film of black nanotechnology, which forms into a tendril that interfaces with the station. "Pilot your ship to the coordinates we are providing," all the Strind say together. "We are configuring your targeting sensors to compensate for the temporal differential."

 _Icarus_ hurtles through the dust as the raptor's torpedoes explode around it. As they draw nearer to the invisible chroniton stream, the swirls of dust grow denser around them, causing them to reduce speed.

"I cannot evade them!" Rylek shouts as the raptor fires a spread of torpedoes. They speed toward _Icarus_ , their green light bathing the bridge.

Then the torpedoes seem to slow to a crawl, surrounded by still dust. The movement of the raptor is slow to the point of being imperceptible.

"Fire your weapons now," the Strind cluster says.

Avala blinks, then taps her console. _Icarus_ fires its four remaining transphasic torpedoes. They sail past the nearly motionless cloud of dust.

The Centurion barely has time to see the preternaturally fast torpedoes. She swerves to avoid them, but one of the torpedoes strikes the raptor's starboard wing. It ignites, tearing the wing from the ship in a fiery blast.

The cockpit is momentarily engulfed in flames before the fire suppression system activates. The Centurion, severely burned and coughing blood, grips the helm control with bloodied hands. Struggling to force the remaining thrusters to fire, she brings the wrecked raptor into a collision course with _Icarus_.

Time seems to shift around her as she utters a prayer to her god.

Avala reaches to Rylek and seizes his hand as the flaming ship careens toward them. The five Strind secrete a technological film which coalesces into an oblong device. It generates a field around them as the raptor plunges into _Icarus_ ' midsection where the saucer connects to the stern. The raptor smashes through the hull, breaking into pieces as it blasts a hole from one side of _Icarus_ to the other. A massive explosion rends the saucer from the stern, and they drift apart in the silent dust.

On the darkened bridge, the Strind calmly deactivate their device. Avala, Sorensen, and Rylek drift from their chairs into the air as the gravity disappears around them. They look between each other in stunned disbelief.

Then Rylek begins to laugh nervously. Sorensen and Avala join in, laughing in disbelief.

"Oh my god," Sorensen says deliriously. "We survived."

Avala looks at the Strind, who float absently above the deck. "I don't know what you did just there, but I think you saved our lives."

"We considered that your continued existence was the more favourable outcome."

"Well, yeah! I agree with you on that. And, like, you as well!" She pauses. "But… the other Strind?"

"A few bodies were destroyed," Ch'akak replies. "But their consciousness survives in the other members of their clusters. And you will be pleased to know that your ship's core systems were preserved."

"Aw man, I love you guys!" Avala drifts lazily toward the top of the domed bridge. "I hope you don't mind me saying that. It's just, I feel like this has been a very successful encounter between our species."

They blink in unison.

The bridge shakes slightly as a set of tractor beams from the stern section of _Icarus_ grip the saucer, pulling it into place. The matter projectors begin to rebuild the broken ship, piece by piece, as it drifts end over end in the silent dust.

* * *

Sparks and Uyu advance down an empty corridor of the _Syrinx_. Sparks stops at a corner in the corridor and checks his tricorder, then holds up an open hand, signalling Uyu to hold back. Gripping his phaser rifle tightly with one hand, he silently holds up fingers counting down from three. Then he rounds the corner, aiming his rifle at a group of surprised Romulan security officers.

Before they can react, Uyu has vanished. Then three black crystalline bars, each approximately half a meter in length, burst from the lead Romulan's chest in a spray of green blood. The bars disappear after a split second and leap from Romulan to Romulan, impaling each in sequence. Their bloodied corpses fall to the deck, and Uyu rematerializes in front of them.

"You don't need to kill them," Sparks tells her.

"I couldn't stand for them to hurt you," she replies. "Your people's existence is so fragile."

"Well, if I remember correctly, this is supposed to be a suicide mission. For me, anyway." The tricorder leads him to a hatch in a nearby bulkhead, and he uses a command override from the tricorder to open it.

"I still think this mission is preposterous, and I cannot believe you're willing to throw your life away for it," she replies as they climb into a maintenance tunnel. "Even after all this time, I still don't fully understand your people."

"It's a bit hard for me to believe you're not human," he tells her. "Even though I know."

She nods. "It's not easy for me either."

He stops for a moment in the corridor and sits for a moment against the wall, his rifle across his lap. "God damn it," he says, "how could you do this to me? Our marriage. Our life together." He chokes. "Our daughter. And none of it was real."

"If you mean that it had an existence independent of us, then no, it wasn't real." Her face is devoid of expression. "You said you wanted to know."

"Not like this! Not to spend seventeen years living a lie!"

"It was a lie I believed too." She swallows hard, but her pupilless eyes are dry. "What I felt for you was real. I love you, Isaiah. I've loved you since the day we met. I don't know what it is. There's just something about you." She breathes deeply. "And you should know that the time we were together is the happiest I've been in my entire existence. I don't know, maybe you humans do have it all figured out, and we're the ones who are wrong. But I can erase your memories of it, if that's what you want."

He shakes his head. "No."

She crawls next to him and presses her body close to his, and he wraps his arms around her as she lays her head on his shoulder.

"What will you do now?" he asks softly.

"I have to go back to where I belong," she replies.

"Stay with me," he whispers. "I can't live without you."

"I want to. Believe me, I do. But it isn't where I belong. Or where you belong, either. You're an explorer, aren't you? Think of it as just another world you visited. And me as just another new species."

He smiles humourlessly. "And I suppose I'm just another primitive fringer who happened to wander into your space."

"Well, you're primitive in some ways. But I do think there are things we can learn from you."

There is a sound from down the corridor, and Sparks draws his rifle. Then Joe flickers into being in front of him.

"Easy, commander, it's just us," he says as Alomar crawls around a corner, holding a Romulan disruptor.

Sparks lowers his weapon. "Excellent. Great work, doctor." He faces Alomar. "Tomas. It's really great to see you again. Hey, it looks like there's a new beard in town."

"Yes, I'm considering keeping it," Alomar replies as Sparks hands him a medical tricorder. He looks quizzically at Uyu. "I don't believe we've met."

"Right," Sparks says. "This is Uyu. She's… well, she's my wife."

"Your wife." Alomar raises an eyebrow.

"It's a very long story. But she's going to help us. Are you ready?"

"After the time I've spent in captivity, I'm ready for anything."

They crawl a short distance and Joe examines his tricorder. "We're here. I'm reading one hundred forty six Romulan and Reman lifesigns beyond." He furrows his brow. "And one Tellarite. Very faint."

"We can't help her until we disable the SIM drive. Joe, try to reach it while we create a diversion."

"Understood." The hologram vanishes.

"I'll take care of the hostiles," Uyu says. Sparks opens his mouth, but she interrupts, "Don't worry – I won't kill them."

"It's the human thing to do," he replies. "I'll widen the dampening field. Should stop them from calling for help, or transporting a phalanx of soldiers on our asses." He pauses. "You ready?"

She looks into his eyes. "Yeah. Be careful, though, alright? There's only one of you."

Sparks smirks. "I think we've been through tougher situations than this."

The hatch breaches, and Sparks and Alomar enter the engineering bay, weapons drawn. Ahead of them in the cavernous cylindrical space, six latticed decks wrap around an enormous deuterium sphere. Brilliant light flashes from within the sphere, and each burst of light seems to rock the ship.

"We need to reinforce the tertiary containment field!" Lerex is saying. Then she glances in Sparks' direction. Their eyes meet. She begins to call for the heavily armoured elite guard behind her. Then there is a subtle burst of colour in front of her. It moves between each Romulan and Reman, one by one, faster than the eye can see. The four elite soldiers blink to nearby positions as the rest of the engineering crew crumples to the deck, unconscious. The light follows the soldiers, but with each flash, they reappear a distance away.

One of the soldiers pulls a small spherical device and presses a green button on the side. There is a pulse of energy in all directions, and the bursts of colour cease as Uyu is thrown a distance away from them. She materializes on the reverse-gravity deck above the soldiers' heads. They aim their weapons, and she is disintegrated in a hail of disruptor fire.

Sparks stops in his tracks for a moment, then watches as Uyu re-coalesces from a cloud of particles.

"I see you've picked up a few tricks from fighting the Bal'Horai," she says to the soldiers on the deck above her head, a note of condescension in her voice. She holds out her hand as they fire again, and the green energy twists and collects into a ball opposite her palm. She closes her hand and the energy dissipates.

Then one of the soldiers appears behind her and stabs forward with a bayonet made of Bal'Horai chitin. Without looking, Uyu seizes the weapon and plunges it into the chest of a soldier who is materializing in front of her. A spray of dark Reman blood stains her silver bodysuit.

The soldier behind her activates his spherical device. There is a look of profound annoyance on Uyu's face as she begins to disintegrate.

Then the soldier is felled by a burst of red energy. Sparks runs forward and vaults over an engineering panel. He passes the threshold where the gravity reverses, and rolls as he lands on the deck above. He takes the device from the unconscious Romulan's hand and deactivates it.

"Thanks, lover," Uyu says. Before Sparks can respond, she transforms into four floating crystalline bars, which shoot past Sparks and impale a soldier who has just appeared behind him. There is a burst of green blood and the soldier collapses. Uyu reappears behind the corpse and shrugs.

Green light flashes around her, and she presses her palms against the high-energy forcefield which as appeared around her. Sparks turns to see Lerex standing nearby, twitching visibly under the effect of neurostimulants. She turns her attention to the SIM unit, and her ocular implant detects the invisible hologram trying to access the controls. The palm of her cybernetic hand glows red, creating a photonic scattering field to bring Joe offline.

Alomar trains his disruptor on her. "Stand down," he shouts.

Lerex raises her cybernetic hand, and Alomar pushes the trigger. The weapon does not respond.

Alomar looks up at Sparks on the inverted deck opposite him, catching his eye. Then he places his disruptor on a workstation and approaches Lerex, holding his hands in front of him.

"Listen," he says. "Everyone on this ship about to die. Let me help you save them."

"Save your breath, Earthman. There is nothing to be said; I serve the Exarch."

"Even at the cost of the lives of hundreds of thousands of your people?"

She glares at Alomar. "Do you not understand what we are doing? We are trying to save _billions_ of lives! We are trying to restore our worlds. Are you prepared to help me with that?"

He shakes his head. "You know I cannot."

"Why?" she shouts. "What justification do you have to preserve this timeline, where billions of my people have died and our culture teeters on the brink of extinction? Tell me why we should preserve this timeline?"

There is another tremor, and a deafening cracking sound from the deuterium surrounding the singularity. Lerex whirls to face it, and Sparks rushes for the SIM unit. Then he stops in his tracks as a bloodied bayonet protrudes from his shoulder. He looks at it with shock, then falls to his knees. A masked soldier stands behind him.

"No!" Uyu shrieks. There is a bright flash which overwhelms the forcefield surrounding her, and a black Bal'Horai with a white stripe crashes forward across the deck. The soldier moves to intercept her, blinking to the side to avoid a slash of her claws before being cut down by a second swing.

"Stop!" Lerex shouts, crouching next to Sparks and holding a blade to his throat.

Uyu reverts to her humanoid form, keeping a wary distance from Lerex.

"Let him go," Uyu says.

"You will stand down first."

Uyu glances at Sparks. "All right, just don't hurt him," she replies. "You do realize that your ship is about to implode. All of you are going to die."

"Then we die in accordance with our duty," Lerex says. "Honour demands no less."

"Duty. Honour. All of those are fictions." She examines Lerex. "You were in contact with the Civilization's network. You know that."

There is a look of desperation in Lerex's eyes. "Maybe they're fictions. But without them, we are nothing at all."

* * *

"Behold," says the Exarch. "A marvel in the darkness. How pleasing to the eye it is."

The tall viewscreen of the _Syrinx_ shows a perfectly round sphere, mirrored on all sides so that it reflects the starlight. Other than a faintly visible ring of dust, the anomaly is surrounded by nearly a light year of empty space in all directions. There is a reverential silence among the Romulans and Remans watching from the platforms surrounding the bridge.

The Exarch turns away from the image of the distant object. "What is the status of our quantum singularity?" he asks Upexi.

"It nears total collapse," the viceroy tells him.

"And yet if we drop to impulse, Starfleet may yet overtake us."

Upexi looks grave. "Perhaps they will not locate us if we use the cloaking device."

There is a weary expression on the Exarch's face. "No. There will be no evading Starfleet this time. They will come in full force, bringing ruination for our people as they always have. No. Drive us ever forward into the abyssal night. We may burn, or freeze in the suffocating darkness. But we will not crawl."

There is a klaxon from a nearby station. "Sir," a Reman officer reports. "Security reports they have apprehended a Starfleet officer aboard our ship! A human female."

"What?" the Exarch barks. "Impossible!"

The Reman narrows her jet-black eyes. "Security reports the officer wishes to speak with you."

"Very well. Transport her here, and configure the beam to neutralize any technology or biological agents." He puts the hand on the hilt of his sword. "And send an additional security detail to secure the engineering bay. Where there is one, there may be more."

There is a green shimmering, and Rashid materializes on the bridge, flanked by two armoured soldiers who force her to her knees.

"So," he says, examining her uniform. "You are the captain."

"Yes. My name is Zia Rashid. I know that your ship is about to implode, and half a million of your people are going to die. But I'm here to offer you a deal. Our allies have powerful technology. They can help stabilize the singularity that powers your ship."

"You are wasting your time. We would never accept your assistance. We will either restore our worlds or die in the endeavour. There can be no compromise."

"I know that," she replies. "I'm not going to try to stop you from reaching Locus. What I want is your word, as a man of honour, that once you reach it, you'll return my crew and my technology to my ship."

The Exarch stares at her for a long moment. "You expect to persuade Us that you would abandon your own Temporal Prime Directive? No. We have lived among Starfleet officers, and understand the codes they live by. They would die before forsaking them; in this respect, we are much alike. Why should We be persuaded that you are any different?"

"Because I've had the benefit of a broader perspective," Rashid replies. "I've seen things, been places beyond this reality." She casts a glance at the spectators on the platforms surrounding the bridge, observing with rapt attention as if at the theater. "I've seen the outcomes of what can happen today. If you don't let me help you, all of us are going to die."

"Then we die Romulan. Perhaps you have chosen to abandon your codes, your honour, but We will keep them unto the grave."

"I know what your people have been through, that your rules and your tradition are how you keep your culture alive. I understand that. I really do. And I also know who you are, D'Tan. You studied with Ambassador Spock. What was the famous proverb he used to say? 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.'" She stares up at him, concern in her dark eyes. "Let's bear this dishonour together, for the sake of our people. You'll get everything you want. You just have to trust me."

She hears phantom applause from around her, but the Romulans and Remans watching the confrontation are motionless.

"Enough of this," the Exarch says after a moment. "We will hear no more. Disintegrate her," he says to the soldiers guarding her.

The warriors do not move.

The Exarch glares at the masked soldiers. "Did you not hear Our command?"

One of the soldiers salutes. "It is a command I cannot obey, Great One. I will not be responsible for the destruction of our people."

The Exarch turns to the other soldier, who makes no movement. "It is treachery, then," he says, gripping his blade. "Very well. We will spill this Earthwoman's blood on the deck, and yours will mingle with hers."

He unsheaths his sword and steps forward, but stops in his tracks as Upexi steps between him and Rashid, disruptor in hand.

"Even you, my beloved?" the Exarch asks, his voice shaking with emotion.

"It is over, D'Tan," Upexi says over the groan of the dying ship. "There is no alternative." He turns to Rashid. "On behalf of the crew of the Syrinx, I accept your offer of assistance."

The soldiers step back, and the Viceroy extends a spindly hand to Rashid. She takes it, phantom applause echoing in her ears.

"I will give the order to our warriors to stand down," Upexi tells her.

"I appreciate that. I'll have my officers drop the dampening field so we can transport to engineering." She glances once more at the silent spectators. "You're making the right choice."

"It is the only choice that can be made," the viceroy replies.

"And so it is," the Exarch says softly, standing alone in the center of the bridge, "that in this world, the logical are made fools, the honourable made traitors, the brave made cowards. This world is not made for the likes of them. It stands instead indifferent to our desires, its very being a rebuke to our preconceptions. What meaning can there be in such a reality? What place for the actor who would hew to the script?" He turns the point of his sword to a gap in his armour beneath his breastplate. "God forgive me," he says as he plunges the sword into his abdomen.

Then he falls to his knees, and collapses to the shaking deck in a widening pool of green blood.

Rashid watches Upexi and the crew, who look upon the Exarch's body in reverential silence.

Eventually Upexi turns to Rashid. "It's a great shame," the Reman says. "I did love him dearly. He was often a terrible man, but also capable of great tenderness and kindness. It will pain me to replace him with another clone."

"He was a clone?" Rashid asks.

"Yes, and neither the first nor the last. He is the chosen one, the one who will unite believer and non-believer, Romulan and Reman, initiates of honour and of logic. It is a role he must inhabit, even if it kills him over and over again." He gazes at the corpse. "Each time, part of me dies with him."

"I'm sorry," she says.

"It is what must be. Come, let us save our people."

He taps a button on a nearby workstation and activates the transporter. As Rashid's vision is enveloped in the green shimmering, she glimpses the ghostly afterimage of an audience on its feet in rapturous applause.

* * *

"All units," Upexi calls over the din of the engineering bay, "stand down!"

Lerex looks up to see the viceroy approaching her, followed by Rashid and a pair of elite soldiers. She is silent for a moment as she accesses the ship's records, then lowers her blade from Sparks' throat.

There is another explosion, and the containment field surrounding the singularity strains against the bending deuterium.

"We've reached an agreement," Rashid tells Sparks, Alomar, and Uyu. "We're going to help them, and in exchange, they're going to send us and our technology back to _Icarus_ once we reach Locus."

Sparks winces as Alomar rushes to his side and runs a bioregenerator over his wound. "We're going to let them through the anomaly?" Sparks asks.

"That's right. It's a direct order; we can discuss any objections later. But I'm not prepared to let these people die."

Uyu looks around. "I'm so glad you've managed to work out your nonsensical fringer problems." Winking at Sparks, she says, "Hold on, I'll be right back."

Then she vanishes. Within moments, the singularity begins to calm.

Rashid reconfigures the holoemitter control on her tricorder, and Joe reappears. He glances around, his movements disrupted by momentary freezing. "It appears we were successful."

"Yeah," she says softly. "How is Pon?"

"She is stable for now, but her condition remains critical. We need to get her back to _Icarus_ immediately."

"I understand. I'm going to send you back now; have them prepare sickbay and prepare for our arrival. We'll use the Romulans' subspace transporter to get back to the ship."

"Aye, captain."

"And Joe? Good work."

"Thank you, Zia. I've always enjoyed away missions. Even if there isn't much use for an old hologram." He vanishes.

The sound of the singularity reverts to a low hum, and Uyu reappears. She staggers for a moment, then collapses. Sparks, still bleeding from his shoulder, rushes to catch her as she falls and holds her in his arms as her body begins to dissolve, beginning with her limbs.

"What do you know?" she says weakly. "I didn't think it was possible to destroy this body. I guess there's more than one way to get back to the Archetype." Her blank white eyes stare into his. "You know, I was considering doing this even without your captain's say-so, just to save you. But I knew you'd never forgive me. Have I ever told you how maddeningly stubborn you are?"

Sparks chuckles, tears in his eyes. "Don't suppose I can persuade you to stick around a while longer?"

"I thought about it. But I don't think you realize how tedious your lives are most of the time. But then, maybe that's what makes certain moments what they are." Particles begin to dissolve from her face. "You could join me, you know. There are worlds you've never imagined."

"Someday," Sparks tells her. "Maybe in a few years. Maybe… yesterday."

"It's a date," she smiles.

Then she dissolves in his arms.

Rashid watches for a moment as Sparks kneels on the deck, tears in his eyes. Then she approaches Alomar, who is crouched next to Pon's prone form, placing neural interface devices on her temples.

"Is she ready for transport?"

"I believe so."

"Good. Stand by." She taps her combadge. "Rashid to _Icarus_."

"This is _Icarus_ ," Avala's voice replies.

Rashid smiles. "It's good to hear your voice, Vanda. Glad to hear the ship's still in one piece."

"Er... not exactly one piece. But yes, we're alive. Was the mission a success?"

The captain looks around. "Yes, I'd say it was. Send us your coordinates and prepare for transport."

"Aye, captain. _Icarus_ out."

Rashid stands and faces Upexi. "We've upheld our part of the agreement. Are you ready to transport us back to our ship?"

"You have my word, and I will fulfill it," the viceroy replies. "You will be returned to your vessel, along with your technology."

"Good." She narrows her eyes. "I can't condone what you're doing. But whatever happens, I hope you'll remember that the Federation is not your enemy."

The viceroy's face betrays no emotion. "Perhaps in the new reality, things will be different between our peoples. Perhaps we can call you friends." To Lerex, "Set transport coordinates to their vessel and prepare to energize."

Lerex nods. She exchanges one last glance with Alomar. Then she activates the transporter, and Alomar, Sparks, Rashid, Pon, and the SIM unit dissolve into nothingness.

"It is done," she announces. "They are safely aboard their vessel."

"Good. We owe them no less," Upexi says.

She stares at the Reman, a tear running down her tattooed face. "It is hard to accept that he is gone."

"I know, child. But we must remain strong for what is to come. The most dangerous part of our journey awaits."

"On my honour, I will continue to fulfill my duty."

The Reman puts his hand on her shoulder. "He would expect no less of us."

In the still silence of space, the _Syrinx_ approaches the featureless mirrored surface of the anti-time anomaly. Then it passes through the surface, leaving faint ripples which dissipate to nothingness.

* * *

Two flashlight beams cross the darkened corridor. Rashid nearly trips over a piece of broken bulkhead. She kicks it aside.

"So," she says to Sparks. "Seventeen years."

"Yeah. It's, um… I still don't really know. It's over a quarter of my life, just gone. Never happened." He taps a padd. "Here, I want to show you something. Look at this."

Rashid takes the padd and examines the image on the screen, which shows a young human woman with a smile on her face.

"Is this her? Your daughter?"

"It's close. But I can't get it quite right." He looks at her with an expression of sadness. "She was really an amazing kid. I wish you could meet her. She may not have been real, strictly speaking, but I feel like it's up to me to keep her memory alive."

"Of course. And if there's anything at all that you need, let me know."

"Thanks, Zia. I will. It's just…"

"I know," she says compassionately.

A door opens ahead of them, casting light into the corridor. Avala steps out, flashlight in hand. Sparks looks at her with surprise. "Vanda!"

"Hey," she replies, smiling quizzically. "Glad you're alive."

"Yeah, you too. Feels like it's been a while."

Rashid puts her hand on Avala's shoulder. "Susan told me what happened. You did a fantastic job today. I really mean that."

She blushes a deeper blue. "Thanks, captain. Really, if it wasn't for the Strind, we wouldn't have had a chance."

"Maybe so. But in fact, a good relationship with the Civilization may be the most important thing we accomplish here. So you should be proud."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." She pauses. "I should get to the saucer section."

"Go," Rashid says. "But then get some rest. And tell Rylek as well. You've earned it – the ship can take care of herself."

Sparks watches her go. "Wow," he says as he follows Rashid through the doorway. "Blast from the past."

The door closes behind them, and they are in the well-lit sickbay. Pon lies on a biobed, with Alomar to one side, clad in a surgical dress. Joe stands across from him, flickering periodically in and out of existence. Sorensen works at a nearby console to keep him stable.

"Ah," he says, his voice distorted by fluctuations in his holomatrix. "Captain. Good timing."

"How is she?" Rashid asks.

"The cognitive reconstructive surgery was a success," Alomar reports. "We've been able to reverse almost all of the damage. It was delicate work, but it definitely helped to have one of Starfleet's best physicians on hand."

"Two of Starfleet's best physicians," the doctor says.

"Wonderful. Great work, both of you. And Joe, once again, I cannot express my gratitude."

"The pleasure is all mine, captain." The flickering intensifies. "It's been a remarkable experience to spend this time among you. You've really made me feel like I belong. Like I'm one of you." He freezes for a moment, then continues, "I sent you a data file, Zia, which you may find useful. But for now, it may be time to take my program offline. I think I've left it running for longer than recommended."

"Joe…" Rashid begins, but the hologram holds up his hand. "Not to worry. Just a bit of r-" He disappears, then reappears after several seconds. "Routine maintenance. Computer, deactivate EMH."

Then he is gone.

"Ughhh…" comes a loud noise from the biobed. Pon sits up and shakes her head as Alomar scans her.

"We're on _Icarus_ ," Pon says groggily.

"That's right," Rashid replies. "You're safe."

The Tellarite looks at her. "So we stopped the Romulans."

"Well, maybe. We're still here, anyway."

Pon's beady eyes focus on a patch of black technology on the wall. "What's that?"

"It's technology from our new friends," Sparks explains. "It's keeping this section powered."

She narrows her eyes. "Why? What happened to my ship?"

"Well, that's a bit of a long story," Rashid begins as Pon shuffles off the biobed.

"Wait!" Alomar protests. "You can't leave sickbay yet!"

She turns to him. "We just got free from the Romulans, and now I'm your prisoner?" She removes a set of biosensors from her medical gown and shoves him away. "I need to know what happened to my ship."

Pon shuffles out the door, with Alomar and Sparks close behind her. Rashid moves to follow, then notices Sorensen staring at her console with an ashen expression. She walks quickly to Sorensen's side.

"What is it?" she asks softly.

"It's Joe," Sorensen whispers. "I… I lost him. His program decompiled. There was nothing I could do."

Rashid gazes at the lines of archaic code on the display. Then she turns to Sorensen, tears in her eyes. "It's alright, Susan. It's not your fault. It's…" She breaks into sobs. "He'd want you to know it's not your fault."

A tear streams down Sorensen's face, and Rashid embraces her and holds her tightly.

* * *

A single candle illuminates Rylek's quarters. He sits cross-legged on the floor, clothed in loose, comfortable clothing, gazing out the porthole at the dull glow of the nebula.

There is a rap at his door. Taking a moment to focus, he stands, crosses the room, and slides the inactive door open.

Avala stands in the darkened corridor, wearing a black tank top and shorts. "Hey," she says. "There's a massive hull breach in my quarters, and the force field seems stable but it's still making me nervous. Mind if I hang out with you?"

"Of course, Vanda. Please, enter."

She steps inside and helps him slide the door shut. "Thanks. Honestly, I'm still so wired. I thought we were done for sure. I don't know who that Reman was, but man. Yikes."

"I concur. I… well, I regret that I may have displayed some emotion during the exchange." He sits at the edge of his bed.

She sits next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "That's your takeaway from this? Rylek, you never need to worry about showing emotion around me. And you were amazing today."

"I appreciate that. And you as well. Not only at tactical, but for your first active command, I believe your conduct was exemplary."

"Thanks. That really means a lot."

She shifts subtly toward him on the bed. He hesitates, then places his arm around her, and she leans in close to him.

After a long silence, he says, "Vanda?"

"Yes, Rylek?"

He pauses. "I recognize that we had agreed to define the parameters of our relationship as 'friends.' But in light of… current circumstances…."

She eyes him mischievously. "You want to go back on our agreement?"

"I had simply thought that we might… explore…" He trails off as she takes off her shirt.

She smiles at him. "I think we can make an exception just for today."

Then she leans in and kisses him. He takes her in his arms and lays her on the bed.

"Oh, you're so strong!" she says as he kisses her chest, stomach, and between her legs. "Oh…"

Her antennae stand on end as she grabs the pillow.

* * *

The door slides open and Rashid enters the darkened common room. The thick stench of mud hangs in the air. In the center of the room, Pon has created a wide tub, and she wallows in the viscous mud, submerged to her shoulders and holding a jug of syrupy Tellarite drink.

"I see you're doing better," Rashid says.

"The mud helps," Pon grunts. "I suspect it could help you too. Why don't you join me?"

Rashid eyes the thick substance, then removes her clothing and dips into the mud across from Pon. She leans back against the edge of the tub.

"How was your conversation with Starfleet?" the Tellarite inquires.

"Not great. They weren't exactly happy that we let the Romulans travel through the anomaly. But I think they were persuaded that letting half a million people die wasn't an acceptable alternative."

"The fact that we're still here probably helps," Pon says. "Honestly, I think the Temporal Prime Directive is a load of shit. The Prime Directive? Sure. There's lots of evidence as to the harm caused by interference with pre-warp cultures. But interference with the timeline? That's an area where good scientific knowledge is sorely lacking. Why? Because the Temporal Prime Directive prevents us from doing any meaningful research." She snorts. "Anyway, who's to say Starfleet is not going to just send a fleet through the anomaly to the point where the Romulans arrive, and intercept them on the other side? Or that the Romulans couldn't figure out how to prevent their sun from going supernova - the phenomenon that caused that is still not fully understood. Or maybe the Bal'Horai decided to take a bit of pre-emptive revenge. We know the Civilization exists across trillions of parallel universes; there's no reason to think they're bound by space and time the way we are."

"There's so much about them that we don't understand," Rashid muses. "All we've seen is the surface of the River. There's so much more to discover."

"Speaking of which," Pon says, "Were our little friends alright? The Strind? I think I may have… overreacted a bit when I saw what they did to the engineering bay."

Rashid smirks slightly. "They were fine. They seemed very happy to have spent the time with us. Maybe in the same way that we might enjoy a visit to a nature sanctuary. Anyway, they're gone now. Took their technology and went Out."

"Out. That's where you went as well, right? Must have been a trip."

"Well, yeah. But it put some things in perspective. Like the fact that I'm a duplicate of my original self. Which I finally told Starfleet about. They weren't thrilled about that either, of course. But they couldn't really argue with the fact that Joe's last official act was to clear me for active duty." She takes a deep breath. "I guess… I used to worry that I wasn't real. Now I'm not sure that anything is real. But I'm where I need to be, I think. The mission's going to continue, and I'll continue to play my role."

"I'm glad to hear that. So what's our next destination?"

She sinks lower in the mud, submerging her shoulders. "We're going to set a course for Sagittarius A*."

"Aw yeah," says Pon. "Can't very well make a trip to the Galactic Core without paying a visit to our galaxy's resident supermassive black hole. To the final frontier." She takes a drink from the jug and passes it to Rashid.

"The final frontier." Rashid takes a sip of the thick liquid and winces. Then she gazes through the porthole at the luminous dust. For a moment, she sees the indistinct shapes of an audience watching her.


End file.
